Wednesday, August 25, 2010



Some bodies never get opened,
require no surgery.

Nonetheless, we trust that humans
are equipped with matching

machinery. In every attic,
a brain, and downstairs,

two lungs, a liver, a stomach,
intestines spooled up

like a garden hose. Same make,
slightly varying models.

This collective trust pumps through
cities and villages, governs

survival. When the traffic stops
because the stoplight

burns red, and the glowing white
man blinks above

the street, we walk without fear.
The driver puts a foot

onto the brake, agreeing to not
run any pedestrian over.

Because we were made according to
rules, we continue to

make them so that we might feel at home,
these old family recipes.


  1. Those two yellow lines in the middle of the street
    are equal signs in our journey of belief...

  2. Trust is a perfect title, and you are so very very clever in addition to having a way with words... : ) Have a lovely Wednesday!

  3. I had a conversation with a friend who staunchly believes that all expectations are sinful. I don't agree. Like you, I think that there might be another name for the little expectations, like expecting that someone will stop for us on the road, and that might be trust.

  4. Hannah,
    Your words really are ingenious, intelligent and keenly expressed.
    I've really become a fan and am lucky to have found your little piece of real estate.

  5. i really love this one, hannah! well done! (will try to reply to your email a.s.a.p!)

  6. LOVE this one. Although these days I feel a wee bit less trusting about putting my foot into the crosswalk. I like to make eye contact with the driver first.

  7. It makes it impossible to conceive of things like the barbarism of war, or the pervasiveness of things like murder and domestic violence, when we all share the same anatomy and the capacity to feel physical pain and emotional loss. Thank goodness, most of us, can identify with one another, and follow the rules of decency, and traffic signals.


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