offering 4

By Clifton Snider

for Alex Pumfrey

Nothing underneath my bones
feels like my calendar days
clicking like the kitchen clock.

Had my first formal massage tonight,
performed by a master masseur,
my twenty-two-year-old yoga teacher,

fresh from his hippy stage,
dreadlocks replaced by a mohawk
replaced by a smooth, shaved head.

Tattoos intact & piercings
still in place, he takes me as I am.
His lucid skin, his blue eyes compel.

His forearms, elbows, fingers,
palms press into my skin, my skull.
I absorb soothing, lime-scented ointment,

skill of the healer as mind melts,
arms dangle, shoulder blades relax
& I fall into spirit through flesh: namaste.

From Moonman: New and Selected Poems, World Parade Books, 2012

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