When Bodies Meet

When bodies meet
It’s not the same
As a friend at the bus-stop
Or queue-mate at the supermarket check-out
Or even beside a bar in city crowds.

When bodies meet there is intertwining
Which can cause knots
Of bindings and embroidery.
There is consternation around performance
And perfume of worry and silky
(Maybe sticky) surfaces.
Things to touch and grab,
They slide and infiltrate,
They take hold of worlds (both big and little)
And hold them up for inspection.

In the fun-time sun-shine
Taking the tricky route to the end,
Little glimpses appear
Of sparkling water surface lights
Illuminating yet more threads of the web
Spun between us.

And when the end comes,
In Eliot-ish way we find here is another
Beginning.
When bodies met are parting
There may be more and less:
The given is gone
The giver not diminished,
And the gift adds to the sum
Of that which lies between, unseen.