that is soft and sees
gliding just above the surface
constructs a second skin of close attention
The hand cannot
tire in the face
of another, a hand floats or hovers
detached from the wrist, my hand fits your face precisely What recognizes
the suffering of the other is a movement in one's hand. The man on
reaches out to point at the plane coming in to land.
That would be the
I'll stay here. And of the trees
full forth on the sea, a hand is every one. And while we're planning the
A vague starfish
watermarked into the letter, a starfish burning on the window.
For every ship that went down, they'd speak of the hands--"All hands
and "All hands were lost." "I made a ghost of all my hands"
the walls rock, we'd read the lists in the morning paper.