Sugar, Divinity
�I adore coffee,� she said,
raising her cup and my eyes
to her lips.
�Not enough sugar.�
We reach for the sugar
at the same time,
hands coming into contact
just above.
Michaelangelo knew this
(must have known this)
spark of divinity,
electricity between
two hands touching/
fingers brushing.
Was that what he saw,
lying on his back,
gazing at pristine
Sistine chapel ceilings?
We both twitch fingers back,
maybe embarrassed -
a moment passes,
lost to history
and hallowed architecture.
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