My hands, do not wish to know you,
like fingertips would know,
the symmetry of braille.
[(My paradigms are mine
to keep, as constant and beloved,
… as you hold your own.)]
… But wouldn’t it be something,
to allow you to contour, the kind shape of me,
as patiently as you could allow me to contour,
… (the) kind shape of you.
