Poem 20151004

i rest my thumb
in the valley of your spine
above your waist
as we cross the street

not so much to direct
as you know the way
and not so much to protect
because there’s no real danger

but in a sense
it is to protect something
–different than moving you
out of the path of an oncoming car–
to direct you
–not in a direction you
are not already going–

but more
this thumb
that vertebra