Fingers: A Prose Poem

Fingers trace everyplace
and into the base of his back, Encouraging the pace,
of his secret being buried in my skin, That’s the ace … in the hole.
Fingers trace down my vase.
And I brace.
As he reaches the chas, it’s a race.
We are breathless, trying to circumnavigate,
the space … the time.
We both take what’s ours,
while giving grace,
with fingers laced,
nothing gone to waste.

3 thoughts on “Fingers: A Prose Poem

  1. Hmmm…well. Let’s see. The commas shouldn’t be there. There are too many dots after the word ace…there should be semi-colon(s) somewhere…LOL. Sorry. I’m just teasing and I wouldn’t nit pick it really. My first thought was that it’s worth a re-blog Just one thing: “everyplace” should that be two words or was that just because it’s uniquely written as part of the prose?

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