Sonnet 4
Our pockets hold a spot for secret hands
we told each other we wouldn’t hold.
We’re ignoring each other’s commands,
Marking each transgression where we’re bold.
Elevators are not public if alone.
Ears lightly brushed is fine if it’s not kissed.
The rules should not be broken once they’re shown,
We still trade each other things so they’ll be missed.
Our secret is that there aren’t quite secrets yet,
keeping our talk away from muffling gloves,
meeting in lighted corners they can vet
reading our lips, watching each other shove
each other away, turning away, discreet.
Our pockets hold our next time to meet.
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