I lower the cotton quilt, roll over and reach out
with bony fingers; chewed nail tipped,
that clasp you, and lift you, and place you
into the palms of my cupped hand.
In the dark on the memory foam mattress
I run tired fingers along your curved frame.
The imagined click from your thumb pressed switch,
then I pinch at your mould shaped to fit me.
Bringing you to my face, brushing past the cheek
I insert you in with a twist and push
as you breathe into me; the faintest beep,
to fill me with the sounds of the day.
Here's a new poem
"I run tired fingers along your curved frame.
The imagined click from your thumb pressed switch,
then I pinch at your mould shaped to fit me."
#Poem #Poetry #PoetsOnBluesky #WritingCommunity #Deafness
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