Laying Hands

It's either too hot
Steam heat
Or freezing
No heat
I reach across in the melancholy night
Run my hand down her exposed arm
Sometimes I see her smile
Though it might be involuntary as she sleeps
She has a strong back
Years of teaching jazz dance
Sometimes I plant my full open hand
In the landscape between her shoulders
I whisper
"I'm laying hands"
She smiles for real this time
Intimacy
Winter
Our own heat