mikeham

You fingertips lift my skin
above the usual shifts of time and space
and death hesitates.

Out of your fingers, then
a Lazarus moment;
perhaps, not biologically,
perhaps, yes;
at least, yes, radiating
a circle of excitement,
a circle of elation,
a circle of electrification,
a great circle of magnetic joy.

But I'm not in awe,
or grateful;
I'm in love.

And only love allows a space for death
beyond our fingers and skin;
where death watches in awe
our little bounding vibratory joy
flow above our deteriorating bodies.

There, it waits patiently
and doesn't mind.

SarahNSH

Now, this is an interesting concept with death waiting at the sense of someone's fingertips. I really enjoyed this part of your poem and what you're saying with it:

That vibrating out of your fingers
radiates a Lazarus moment;-

At first I had to think about the Bibical moment and who Lazarus was but then remembered it and it kind of added another element to the poem as I was reading it. I would maybe suggest switching up some words that were repeated more than once, like with "wait" and "waiting", but this is just a suggestion and completely up to you. But, besides this I found nothing else to suggest with your poem.

Anywho, thank you for sharing and keep on writing away!