this is for the girl with the tattoo on her back. namaste.

reach.
flesh.
towards offering
acceptance.

palms.
cupped.
as if to catch
my tears.

fingers.
point.
to a heaven drawn
in more subtle lines.

spinning in this
semi-dark i
catch glimpses
of offering hands.

the white neck perched
atop, some sort of
gentle rebuff to my
metaphoric mind.

“a woman dances here,”
the neck whispers,
“not some capital T Truth.”
—as if there were a difference.

i can bow my head
and smile
knowing those hands
of some unknown back
are waiting
clasped
to catch my soul
should it slip away.