Friday is full of sparks

Sparks
By Annette Marie Hyder

I can hear your breath creak

stretched thin on the scrubbing board of the air.
Your glance is static electricity.
Your hands are heat’s secret lair.
I don’t waste my breath on punitive air.
I spark my glance against yours.
And my hands too
are a place where heat burrows.
Let me show that nest to you.
Happy Friday!