Psalm II:16

For Nasia

You are making me now,Right now, the clay of meWarm in your hands,

The hands of me warmedBy your hands that shape them, shape a heartThat's never beaten, been beaten,

Skin that shivers in secret places,Places that will never be touchedExcept by the maker

Hunched patiently overThe stupidity of matter,Leaving your mark between my eyes, my hips,

In the clay turning slowly in your hands,Blinking a little in your lightAs I learn to forget

The tenderness you revealIn the act of making, to confuseThe feeling of your fingers

Moving inside meWith smaller, less luminous fingersThat will never reach as deep, whose love

Will never make meSomething that can think, can suffer,As your love, fingerby finger,

Is making me now.