Causality Poem by Jay Alexander

Causality



Fingers tell us a lot,
They are not only devices
For blind men;
They are measuring
Me.
I'm lying on a table,
Semi-conscious,
My eyes are shut,
I could be dreaming.
Why are they
Going down and
Along my body:
Touch my forehead,
My face,
My neck;
Delicate, they could be
A woman's fingers,
But also a man's,
Neither too hot, nor too cold,
Or clammy,
Just sure of themselves.
They stop
At my throat,
Feel gently, each side;
Satisfied
They continue
Quickly down my arms,
Superficially touch my hands,
Dismissing them.
Now they're on my
Torso, my chest,
This is where
They really want to be,
Pressing the thorax,
Exploring around it.
Above my pelvis,
The fingers suddenly join as if
In prayer,
In unison, they act
Calmly yet urgently,
Prodding my belly.
They stop,
Pause, think.
The pause is brief,
The fingers want to calibrate
All of me,
My thighs, my calfs,
My feet.

Now I'm awake, and quite still,
Sitting on a wooden chair
In a damp cellar,
Arms and legs immobilised,
By a cord.
A naked lightbulb
Spewing yellow light
Dangles over me,
The aircon is the
Only noise,

Suddenly, I realise, I'm missing,
The touch of soft fingers and hands.

Wednesday, January 6, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: war
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