A poem about the intimacy of holding hands.

why the hand?

becuse the hand

it touches

it feels

it senses

to touch

to feel

to sensualize

it all begins with the hands

their clasping, grasping

reaching to connect

two hands meet to spark

to feel around

to ignite their possibility

to ignite an excited lingering

potential, arousal, suspicion

anticipation, erection

of rigid fingers

wrapped with soft palms

moist with nervousness

and desire

they meet and meet again

one holding

one stroking

and then the other

all back and forth

with new sensations

until they part.

Words and sound by b Wrauley

Music by Podington Bear

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