A Poet in your Age

A Poet in your Age

What secret do you hide where others touch,
what part of me do you grant at all hours,
how much am I the flower in your flesh?

What could I give or take without your gift,
how much of you is given when I touch,
or hands that touched before how much?

Away from me what hands can touch,
who enters now with arms or hands,
what space in you is still untouched?

Cry up tensions teased from flesh,
guard for me nothing that can't be kept,
give to me nothing but what I show,

summon meaning with your effort,
tell me nothing I have heard but know.