Contact

Contact.

When two entities begin to occupy the same space,
holding themselves against one another because
separation empties too much out of them.

Contact is security in a No Vacancy sign:
all the rooms are filled up and all the pieces
edge themselves together just right.

Contact is not fullness to bursting;
it is an urn holding as much good water
as its creator intended it to hold.

Contact is altogetherness without overtogetherness.

Cup your hands and let me pour into them.
Only your urn can contain me.

This poem © Gabriel Gadfly. Published January 7th, 2011.