ALL MY PAST GLOVES

you must be a ghost
a spirit who is able
to take off one colourless glove

I wait for the second glove
to be taken off and fall
on the cold marble table top

it is the touch of another
I fear most - a strange act
where flesh mingles with flesh

yet you have stopped
there is nothing more to do
but stand and wait

my covered hands in blue
as talisman
all my past gloves on the wall behind

like you I watch and hesitate
not able to relax
as I look upon your own fetish