He had a lucky hand.

It was attracted to things.

Another hand fusing palm

to palm.  A woman’s cheek.

The smooth page of a book.

Hair.  It must have been

a calling.  The universe

gave itself to him.  He wanted

to touch the snow where

the shadow falls.  His mother’s

shoulder.  Could you touch

goodness.  Echoes.

The blinding face of God.