Healing the Two of Us

And what if there were enough
to go around? What it,
slipping my hands into the film
surrounding her, I could somehow
pull myself into being? Cupping
the starry black jelly, invisible,
that coats each golden hair
on her arm? Drinking it into
my listening fingers? What if
my ears were my palms, fleshy,
lined with age, with love and
secrets in the dark; what if
I could heal the two of us
--both of us, each of us, we--
by breathing her breath just once
or twice?