Feel Them. Poem by Terry Collett

Feel them. Feel her fingers.
You do love me don't you?

she'd say. Yes, sure I do,
you'd reply. But the words

were not touching home;
not so much a lie as a sad

misunderstanding of their
meaning. She’d lift your arm

behind your back in some
kind of female arm lock.

You’d laugh and repeat,
yes, of course I love you,

of course I do. Her spirit may
rest now years after the sudden

death. At night if you are silent,
you can hear her breath.