electromagnetic

six fingers

in a pair of tripod nets

sense the tug between two magnets

 

immaterial, physical -

the oldest image in the poetry books

for a reason

 

how deliciously predictable

and deliciously hard to navigate the curve

between too far apart, diffuse

and too close together...snap!

 

garments relocated and light brought to skin,

our hands now rest in each other's,

left to right and right to left,

positive to negative and negative to positive

 

spines feeling the ferrous tug, resisting,

blood feeling the ferrous tug, chasing,

guts feeling the ferrous tug, begging,

 

that reorienting tension

immaterial, physical

 

we each watch the other's eyes and together

we ride the pull along the curve,

deliciously predictable,

deliciously anticipating the snap.

 

the prickle on our skin from every electron that early-jumps the gap,

the air convecting between our bodies into a solar wind,

already the storm of this meeting has begun