Elbow Room Poem by Kevin Fisher-paulson

'Veni, Vedi, Veci'

Your right hand reaches,
your index finger beseeches

me, my calf,
your other half

a wedge against my arms. Your left
hand leaves me bereft.

I am right. We will not follow through.
You

will not tell me whether.
I can not tell you when. Whither

then we two grown men?
We do not see the which or when.

Be where. The wonder works us both. Would you?
Would I? We do not do

that which we want. I whisper not
for fear that you won’t speak the same, but truth is hot.

You seek no shame.
Am I to blame?

No. Only safe. We watch our sleep.
I say the wrong words; I keep

the hard words wrapped in condoms. I want to stray
But my words cannot condemn, can not betray
what I play.

In rubbers we rub elbows.
I wonder how

we will endure.
We wish for more.
But only shadows know for sure.

July 25th, Feast of James the Greater, Patron Saint of Elbows