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Postmodern Village
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Brand New Dogma
by Hezekiah Allen Taylor

with a finger
figurative
yet so solid
you pressed
away the doubts
from my skin
I wish I could
do the same
for the flickering questions
that tentatively
search outward
from the pulse at your wrist

even now

but you broke
nachos with me
in the darkened confessional
of my cinema church
I find that
so endearing
and the dramatic ascension
of your warm
and literal thumb
over the pouting folds
of my palm that Sunday
reverberated
sonorous
out into the flickering black
bringing back bits
of soft filtered light

even now I continue
to answer with a quiet touch
so I won't scare off the tickle
of those fingers

I am here
if I am what you want

Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version
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