Doubting Rene

I know nothing in deed and all in thought
says Descartes, without a tongue of sense
or a cheek of meaning.
No aspirated syllables or hands with fingers
to write or spell insanity in
Latin words--curses--faceless and disembodied
like smoke to meet the sky.

I'll not believe your matterless musing
until I put my hands through your side
and see your body part to my fingers.
I'll not believe until I know you've rid yourself
of skin and bones forever.