i give what i am
knowing i am alone here, now, as always.
the lines of my palm grow and spread into a map of unknown.

curious. my own, unknown.
my joints hold the form of intent--
each cell, each strand of muscle, each capillary and bone,
longs to come together-- form this unknown intent.

the possibility. you there, leaning against the window pane,
holding your weight, your constant strength against gravity.
have you forgotten? could it be as full, if you realized? pockets
depend upon it, buttons and stains, to be useful and used.

you are dear to me. unreasonably so.