Touchscreen

desire

sketches the lines

of the bones

beneath the canvas

of the skin / paints

in the petals

of the geranium / colors

the laugh lines

with charcoaled

fingertips

when every cell

is weary / when the lids

fold out sight

like stage curtains

coming together

to deny these yesterdays

listen for the song

of my thumbs

pressing against the

touchscreen

I’ll send you

a shroud of a poem

to wrap around

your beautiful shoulders

and carry

into eternity