Beautiful (II)

There is something beautiful
when a man brushes her skin
with his fingertips, so gently.
Because he knows she cannot
withstand any-more late night motel stops,
bruised thighs, scars from ex-lovers.
A tragedy that she may not ever feel his touch.

We are too scared to turn around
and say to the people we love,
“I’m sorry but, this is too painful,
this is too hard.”
He buries himself in her body,
an extra form- a second chance.
Because people are hopeful,
they take the hand of strangers
asking for nothing in return.

Except love, she says,
this is his last chance,
this is the final time he comes home
with another women’s gleam in his eye, he’s gone.
I’ll stay with you tonight and hear
his cries with a complete stillness.
As your fingers trace the realignments
as things glide back into place.
Because life is all we have,
good and bad days lined up.
A skeletal map-
where our gold spines gleam like fossils
caught up in the pursuit of beauty.