The Canals of Mars

My warm blood ran
Just below her hand
Through tributaries
Of blue
Like highways
On maps.

I believe
She warmed my blood
Which otherwise
Would be like
The canals of Mars
Frozen
Dead
Meaningless.

I wonder
What she thought?
Did she understand
My blood
Was the complex stew
Of life
That fed my heart
Enlivened my organs
Warmed my skin
Gave me sight
Gave me sense?

Did she know
How vital
Was her touch?

Did she know
Without her hand
I would be a corpse
Without purpose
Without meaning?

Like I am now.