Pockets

There is a hidden fabric to every day

that holds all preciousness close—

secretly resting untouched, until

you graze it—

swiftly, tenderly;

clutching it—

purposefully, desperately;

never taking

or replacing, it
is folded
into the contours
of this skin-and-bone-sewn soul

where I allow

only

your
hand
to reach in.