Tracking the Remembrance of Touch

the eve of his return lists




what carries us to the site of melancholy
our departures
it is your time i wish to possess
what carries us to sight melancholy
our glare unblind too glib
a knowing what one wants
the places
how you made yourself
what slight carries
the force
by prerogative of history
you remain
unusurpable
your time trickles over

like the accumulations
of a fine patina wiped
by a palmwards touch of wetness
your time endures
heirloomless
in deafness articulate
the sign for person
is two parallel hands describing an erection
downwards stroked
the gesture recalls
a child raised to eye level
infused and set to walk
so softly
stand tall and lean on
or shove to
tumble in stack of straw
and the fingers prickly wave applause

and each delight
tickles throatily
saliva and semen
hang like filaments
twisted

no lesser heirs
as risk takers together
retted
soaked
and so shall we exit, sheathless
tested apprentices beloved of masters

men milking a metaphor until it curdles like smegma


28/4/92
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Tracking the Remembrance of Touch ©1996 François Lachance