It happened, sometime
Early in the shower,
Between that first
Preferred temperature –
And strength –
And the satin feel of my hair
Running through
My own fingers.
“What is my longing?”
I asked myself.
And my skin
Told my hands;
As my hands
Redeemed my skin,
Finger-tips tracing
Mezuzah pendant,
“There is poetry here.”
Thank you,
Pin-up girl
And Torah,
Age
And Menopause,
And the recent death
Of my mother,
For chaperoning me
To the Sanctuary of Truth;
Holy, liminal realm of
Erotic shared space.
Here is the landscape:
Shekhinah and Malkhut,
Intermingling.
My soul
Animates
My body.
And I am exactly
What I need.
