Separating the Currents

This body is a field of waves.

touch is grounding. Some touch is sparking.

Not all spark belongs to fire.

Not all grounding belongs to the earth.

I am learning to name the current without collapsing the circuit.

There is play that feeds the skin,

play that echoes in the ribs,

and play that goes no further than laughter pressed into motion.

Touch may be joy without hunger.

Touch may be presence without claim.

In this body, I plant a boundary that is also a door.

It opens when I choose.

It closes when I breathe.

And through it, I let delight return to innocence.