your fingers across her back and you thought of this one time being a wall you held your hand to in this way across her back was it this or even had there ever been a place stapled
in your memory of her back your hand resting ever so
for once
the fingers uncurled curling at not moving you a rhythm of her didn’t you feel so your hand
there was no other than this one you can not remember as ever repeating even though
you can see each on your fingertips her back facing the fingers of your hand resting your body
at her back turned on you her turning across the distance of you leaving the fingers etched in
themselves the grain of her turning away
and you had been remembering where you had made it to your hand as a glance of her turning away to face your own but it had then to be leaving the traces of your fingers to her way
back to you
so that you could touch not her offering her back as if it had been to drench you across
curling uncurling bodies a rhythm of her away from your fingers to be farthest away from
where she was blocking you stopping your fingers from ever reaching the wall past
through her spine where you knew her fingers safely
nestled into the walls of your own