just holding hands

Just holding hands,

just the distance of touch,

just the absence of moments

in the rush of other peoples day.

Unwasted instants

shared, companiable,

unthrilled but impassioned

naked, unlusted,

unchained by desire,

just holding hands.

Just holding hands,

inadequate yet enough,

sufficient for the moment

of the closed eyes.

The semenal migration

of mutual concern,

unteared for the moment,

winged yet in the wings

for a different act

when curtained night

walks the ward

with the unholding.

Just holding hands

just holding

beyond touch,

beyond the sensation

of skin on skin

beyond the tingled mingled closeness

of shared space

the silent intercourse

of just holding hands.