Her delicate place

Her Delicate Place

Her delicate place
was in the smile hidden behind
my car window, beneath
my cap, under
my grey wool scarf holding
my breath.

My delicate place
was in her eyes shamed within
her attendant’s cage, between
her shaking fingers inside
her blue-sleeved suit around
her thin shoulders beneath
her slow, low brows.

Our delicate place
is in her creaseless face upon seeing me,
in my breathless trance between
the before and the after of
my otherwise calloused
smiles.