This is the hand you seek

This is the hand you seek, there
are the fingers sleek with lubricious
juices, there is the tongue slick
with saliva, sluicing a path from
heel to thigh, sliding a trail, a
burning swathe across the sky
of your being.

This is the hand you held
in fear when angels fell,
this is the hand that soothed your
frantic trembling, the hand
that held your hand and tolled
All’s Well constrained in
sweet remembering.

Here is the hand
that stokes your face
as soft in touch as flakes
of snow, the hand that knows
the nerves are never-ending,
the beginnings of every
pleasuring merged in crystal
dew-drops crescendo-ing
in a rash of feeling.
© I.D. Carswell