It seemed a small thing then, learning by touch. – Joan Currie

Touch Typing by Joan Currie

I first learned to type
on a machine with blank key caps,
working through a manual
until I knew exactly
where every letter and number lay.
That early fluency
has served me well.

Your body, too, I first
touched–memorized
blindly, in the dark.
Exploring each contour,
as if it were a map
I could follow by feel alone.

From your thick, curling hair
down the slope of your forehead,
to each familiar landmark–
the aquiline nose, the square jaw,
the wide sternum, the strong arms,
the soft pads of your fingers,
the smooth plain of your belly,
the steely band along your outer thigh,
the steady weight of your feet.

Over the years
you have shown me
how your body has changed,
but I still see it
as I first learned it–
certain, enduring,
and, to me,
handsome still.

My hands remember.