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THE COMPANY THAT WE KEEP WITH THE ONE WITHIN

The Great Tsunami Of Our Growing Grief written 3/2.2021--retitled 3/14/2021

Kathy Brown Kathy Brown

Something Not Quite Right About Here (Vortex) re-edited 1/26/2023

THE COOL TILES BENEATH MY FEET REMIND ME



After Wide Sargasso Sea

Like A Small Street Dog Lured In By The Promise Of Meat

I'd Like To Be Your Shirt (when you wake up in the morning)

This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

The Way Of The Crow

Words Between Edward And Jane

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

DO YOU TURN THE LIGHTS SO YOU CAN SLEEP?

When Mr. Bemish Lost His Last Good Pair of Glasses

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

My Grey Haired Love...La La Lullaby , La La Lullaby My Love

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

CHRONICLER OF DREAMS

YET ANOTHER ANTI-POETRY POEM ( re-edited 11/2/2022)

You Do As You Please 8/17/2005 found poem, readjusted 6/20/22

HERE WE SIT AT OUR TABLE 2/19/2022

Much Better Than This ( A Conversation With The Universe)

The Straight Story (What Happens When The Writer Inserts You Into Her Story)

THE TIDE CALLED LONELINESS

THE HEART IS AN ORGAN ON FIRE

A Girl Always Leaning Forward Looking for A Breeze

Entanglements

Have You Ever... (DECEMBER 4/2021)

Appetites

How I Still Love You

The Smile Which Eludes @

He Says To Me, I Think Too Much (and hence dream too much as well)

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What Is The Price For  Your Touch


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your hands so warm
are made for touching
the palms and
the fingertips
affect me as if I were
melting butter

your hands sit folded in front of you
poised to touch
but not touching
and then are tucked away
into the deep pockets of your baggy pants

if I were bread dough
I'd rise to meet them
becoming so malleable
the breadth of your supple longer fingers
would need/knead me into deep sighs

men think their power
comes from words and size and dominance
but their power comes from their hands
and their choices to be gentle

I long for the stippling of your finger tips
weaving across my protruding collarbone
then traveling down my neck
where they linger as
your kisses would

please,
why
is there a price
for your touch?

not being touched
is a thought
my heart can't bear

why do distances become
so wide
that you seem unreachable

I'm treading the waters near your shore
there are rocks and eddies
and sneaker waves lashing the shoreline

it makes me wonder
what is your price
knowing,
I have already paid it,
I am priceless
then, why
the price for your touch?


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LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 1/25/2022 1:11PM PST AND ALSO FOR THIS POET
MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD.....

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