The Instrument

This tingling I feel –
my own – your body,
feather light and smooth,
is inert, rolls passively
in my palm, invites
intimacy – softness
of bristles, a reminder,
of the need for mindfulness

I inhale your woodsy scent,
a hint of last night’s liquid
spreading – poised
between my index
and middle fingers,
you remind me of another
addiction – less satisfying –

ours is a collusion of
pleasure – submission
performing on command –
from my mind to hand
to instrument – harmonious
orchestration… let’s paint.

(Written for dVerse Poetics, hosted tonight by Sarah Southwest)

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

33 thoughts on “The Instrument”

  1. Your poem appeals to all the senses, V.J. and, as I read it, the paintbrush became real to me. I love that it ‘invites
    intimacy’, its ‘woodsy scent’ and the ‘hint of last night’s liquid’, and the phrases ‘collusion of pleasure’ and ‘harmonious
    orchestration’. Now I want to paint!

    Liked by 1 person

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