touching is not enough

IV

I lift against his skin; he lifts me up.
And I rub his skin like rubbing the air for food.
Again he lifts me up, skin to the curve
Of skin. In dreams, touching is not enough.
And he rubs me on his skin, rubs me under -
"Wake up." he says. Then I -; then he -; but
Do I know what I want? His hands under
My arms, lifting me up? I want - what?

Another dream of his hush upon
Mine; mine, his? And wake, and what is gone:
Mouths kissing husks of hush. And dreams
Of holy hands, rubbing innuendos
Of my body in his day. Are words dreams
Of one refrain: I am alone. Where are you?

[Judith Hall, from 'Landscape Instead of Prayer' in To Put the Mouth To]