collage of finger prints.

he touched my shoulder. thumb against
the back of me neck. brushing hands with
a man through a knot of bodies. 
everyone tangled & touching & 
taking pieces of skin. pinching
my ear lob & ringing my collar bone
like a door bell. i'm peeling them off--
each trace each stroke. i want to look at them.
i want a photo album of hands that have
pressed into me. i don't remember much
about voices or teeth but i remember the fingers
of everyone who's ever kissed me.
there was julian with his thin digits
& the way he would rake his nails
across my wide open back & afterwards
we would stand in his kitchen with 
our bare feet cold against the tiles floor.
we would snack on apples or frozen yogurt
& his fingers would hold the fruit 
or the spoon with less hunger 
than how he held me. i have to admit
i love to be dug into. to be scraped open
i want to be the ledge you hang your wants.
i want to be eroded. sean who 
never cleaned his nails. eating pizza
with him on his deck. lily who 
pulled her fingers across me like tall grass.
eric who moved his hands in circles
across bare skin when he didn't know
what to do or say. i felt like
i was being stirred. mia with their
index finger tracing a line from 
shoulder to shoulder. a trapeze.  
hand around my throat pressing to hard.
grabbing my ass too hard--
finger prints leaving small mazes 
on my body which i have yet to enter--
little labyrinths of pleated skin.
i am tired of hands & of remembering them
& remembering who entered & who left &
caring where he puts his hands now
& how she eats an apple-- i never saw her
eat an apple. if i never touched anyone again
would i miss it or would i feel 
like a forest? a drying canvas?
i press my own thumb into my chest--
rub in circles as if to smudge something out.
i lay on the floor & see the prints 
glowing neon. they move across me--
phantom foot prints. i close my eyes
& when i open them the marks are gone. 
i'm just a body. just a body.
just a body.