She Touched Me On My Face

She touched me on my face
And left a mark branded for the world to see –
Her name written in fire. Her fingerprints
On the scene of my scarlet crime.
She touched me on my lips
And made me drunk with songs of love,
Which burned and seared me as they burst,
Each one crying, “She is mine!”
She touched me on my neck
And made a drumming of my throat’s pulse,
Choking the next breath I would have taken
With the thrill of a snake’s kiss.
She touched me on my breasts
And suddenly their tenderness felt
Two roses spring up, in flaming birth, to life
So greatly did her touching bless.
She touched me on my thigh
And lamed me for ever; all who see me halt
Know whose divinity laid hands on me,
And in whose everlasting thrall I am.
She touched my wound of love
And wounded me more deeply still,
She brings no peace, no healing; I only yearn
To feel that touching break my dam.
She touched my aching jewel
And sparks of yellow intensity, of love and pleasure,
Filled the darkness behind my eyelids.
Could anything in life propel me higher?
She touched my innermost,
Where only she would dare almost to violate,
Because she has the power to set alight
Where all others are forbidden fire.
She touched, she touches, and she shall touch me –
Woman, lover who was, and is, and yet still is to be.