© Svetlana Ischenko
is on the tips of the comb
with which I comb my long hair.
Love is on the ends of my hair
that I spread out over you like a sheet.
Love is in the palm of my hand
that forms to your ripening shoot.
Love is on the tips of my fingers
that touch to your navel as if guided there.
Love is in its depth;
I reach love with the tip of my tongue
the way a wild creature reaches
to rainwater between split stones.
Love is on the tip of my tongue.
Love is on the tip ...