You cannot be blamed
for wondering what
those rough hewn features
would have felt beneath
your fingertips. How those
sad, intense eyes could
have fixed on your own
as the sun went down
and you curved yourself
to the shape of that lanky
body. Nor could you be
blamed for wondering what
the breath behind so many
important words would
have felt on your neck
or your ear, and whether
making love to President
Lincoln would have felt
the same as with any mortal man.