ROMANCE Poem: An ode to Touch, by Parker Koehler

I am never so concrete

as the meeting of hands

a lifeline in nerve stems

and the fragile bone above

nothing is so warm as the breath and body

the haven here where you reap fig

and orange in the summer

we cant have been

meant to weather this wasteland

without knowing the refuge found

under the press of open arms

this city’s winter can’t pass with only the open window

and purple light to keep me here

the snow on the lake melts in the lines of our palms

heartbreaking and fleeting