This longing, the pull of flesh
over flesh to cover our bareness
of soul.  The distance we endure.
The seas we brave to reach each other.

Here is skin you may bruise
with wanting or rage. And here
are my hands, their cracks and fissures
unfolding a life none of us can change.

These fingers, the things they have touched.
Let one of these things be you.
Let me return your name
to the one who had most forgotten.