pome.

Tour de Coeur

Here.

  Place your fingers — Here.
   Lower your head, breathe and

  press them in.

Do you feel it, soft and

  warm and — I'll arch my back —

  pliable. How the muscles shift around you,

learning you, too.

  Here,

Lay your head here, and I'll

  breathe, not freeze

  as you explore the hidden

edges and ridges.

I will try 

  to keep my eyes open

while you read my collarbone like Braille.

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