Tactility

In places like that
in high street coffee shops
I always hear softly ringing bells,
musical notes I do not recognise

- uptown we laid out
in a backroom, two bums
spread bohemian on a Costa couch
like lovers after love has
washed the world away

we laid out,
your body reclining into mine
your black stockinged thighs
moving against my caresses
like two cautious cats

I held on like a shipwrecked sailor
to a knife blade of desire;
what I felt in my hands -
well, there is no word for that.

If there ever was then
that word is now a magic spell
that could turn a whole ocean
upside down -

We could say ‘love’
but that word is absurd -
it’s every piano key in the world
being struck at once.

I cupped my hand
over your right breast
and leaned down -
leaned down to kiss your cheek.

There. Stop.
Let us at least keep that single moment

our faces just touching
my breath spreading across your face
into your mouth
your body pressed against mine

Let us have that moment of gentleness,
together, two softly ringing bells -
let’s listen as we close our eyes,
hear those notes we both now recognise.