The Flesh of Warm Fingers – Written Tuesday 22nd December 2020 (Aged 45)

The Flesh of Warm Fingers

holding, talking,
the flesh of warm fingers
lives dance on the teardrops
from memories that linger
how did i stoop
to the caves of your fear
how did i advance
in a cavalcade of clumsy touch
where the spearhead
lays dormant, coated in musk
now i feel strong weather
in places of doom
there are cracks of broken bone
and shards of distilled moon
holding, talking
rummaging through grass skips
lamenting the headlights
that once made us trip
and all the while
we place our hands
over our mismanaged eyes
the flesh of warm fingers
entangled in pieces of abstract sky
where did our lovely days
vacate to, when the rooms were dark
i hand in my very being
to the most orderly clerk
holding, talking
the flesh of warm fingers




James Garratt – Tuesday 22nd December 2020


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 https://theboybehindtheglasses.com/2020/01/08/the-boy-behind-the-glasses-an-introduction/ 


More poems from 2020 here
 https://theboybehindtheglasses.com/category/poems-and-writing-2020/