Armless

It is a sad thing for someone
so beautiful to have no arms
like standing naked under the sun
while the wind peels your face
in slow, whisks of paper cuts
lines tracing the frame of your eyes
like maps of some far away land

Your innocence is enchanting
and you move in a way that reminds me of
rippling ponds on moonlit nights or
spidercrawl on delicate webs
always a certain grace, a silent gesture
of reaching, almost touching

an alabaster statue on a pedestal
without hands, you exist to be worshipped
set under the prisitine halogen illumination

this celestial imperfecion bears bite marks
at the back of my hand, as you delicately crawl away
on your moonlit, rippling pond.