Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Smashed Hands

(from Serrano Peppers by Jane Hirschfield after my uncle was hit headon by a teen texting)


Remorse as with smashed hands
first there is adrenaline, then just anguish,
what urgent message, pressing call,
what thief of presence, slothful larceny
exacts such unkind toll: the wherewithal
to hold a wrench, tie a shoe;
plunder rendered to wanton absence;
lightning strikes a cherry in bloom,
so weeps the wind.





No comments: