Tuesday, Sept. 16, 2003 | 10:46 AM

My heart is a clenched fist, so tight and bruised and ready always to do battle, to bludgeon and crush.

I can�t hold anything. I can�t wave or steady myself on banisters. Can�t toss or carry or write you love poems the way I want to.

I love through gritted teeth. I love with blinders on, punch drunk, swinging, and swollen shut.

And you� your eyes soft as doves. Your eyes like tinsel and fire. Your eyes like slate pavement after rain. Your eyes like silver angels.

You are my skeleton key. You unlock and open me. In your presence my fingers flower. My palms stretched taught as canvas, the lines are road maps. You can navigate me. You make your way down all my rivers, all my avenues. There is no x to mark the spot until you draw one dear. You show me where treasure is buried. You burrow in and find gold in trash bins and under beds, amongst dust and dirt and empty bottles of diet soda.

The words �I love you� are too small and plain to clothe the thoughts that race through my veins and across my face when I spot you coming up the stairs or watch you curled on the couch or hear the clacking of your keyboard when I pass by your room.

You uncurl me, disarm me, dodge my sucker blows and bluffs. You take me in your arms and to your heart. You have somehow slipped your own long fingers into this clenched fist.

You love me. You let me hold your hand.