reach troubled hands into slow water
sluice through a tumbling stream, ice cold,
fresh from up the valley
till the skin turns pink, turns red,
glows with the unadulterated lust for heat--

a trembling fingerlength closer to fire,
seeking warmth or
adventure or attention,
the great great roaring of the beast
and the coal-chewing appetite of the vision:
just a bit closer, just a bit closer

and think about it later