your hands dropping
pulse to pulse
in long, cursive fingerprints.
They stutter at my clavicle,
blot out freckles.
In morse code, you tap
.. .-.. --- ...- . -.-- --- ..-
until the ink sinks
into my hip.
Your hand hot against my navel.
I forget
if you were right
handed or left.
Spoiler
I gave this Charlie II by placing it on his wall, but I hope he doesn't mind me sharing it with everyone. For Gallyallyarous in particular, because I like showing off.
