Feel

I asked you to find my pulse
and waited as your fingers searched my wrist
like a child scavenging the dirt for caterpillars.
You nodded when you placed it,
faint, but present
"Congratulations," you proclaimed,
"you're alive."


I want to find yours, so I push back the cuff of your sleeve
and reach for the groove;
I should be more than adept at this after doing it every day
for two months when I was going for my EMT license,
but I don't feel anything.
I wait,
and shift,
over and over,
wondering which is more scary;
Everyone being able to find my heart,
or myself, unable to find anyone else's.