Exquisite Tactile Joy Poem by Louise Tredoux

I love it when you stroke my back,
I feel like purring like a cat, maybe
I am, goose-bumps are running down
my spine, I wish I could lie in your lap
forever, your hands absentmindedly
caressing my back – the TV, the great
estrangement factor, curtailing con-
versation, maiming imagination - will
become a source of joy; the joy of
physical contact

Whether you’re watching cricket or
rugby, a sitcom or Discovery, as long
as I can rest my head on you while you
massage my back, I’m happy; it doesn’t
matter whether we have something to
talk about, as long as we have physical
contact – you make my nerves contract
in the joy of soft, rhythmic stroking mo-
vements; afterwards you can ask me
anything and you’ll get it, because

You gave me such exquisite tactile joy!