fingerprints

We agreed we’d pray together,

We dropped to our knees, face to face,
Two bodies posing

                        And now I can’t trust the art of asexual men

                        Who will make me wash the dishes after our erotic encounters

                        And complain of the ill-dusted towel rack.  

And when I touched your ears, I wanted you to touch mine with

the fronts of your fingers, the myth of you to join the myth

of me, and when we bent our heads together I wanted it

to mean something