The Hand that Trusts Itself

The Hand that Trusts Itself

is beautiful, darns holy socks,
sanctifies repairs and reach
and rest. Security of the carried
cup, even lidless, even hot
lava inside, unspilled. This hand
is wanted by wound, piano key,
zipper, pulse, lover’s skin.
The lions and tigers at the zoo
will remain in their cages, so long
as this hand locked up. As
figure skaters who do not appear
to fear a fall throw themselves
into the air, the hand glides
like this, chasing what it wants.

Utopia 1

Utopia 1

Everyone you know knows
everyone else you know.

Everyone you love loves
everyone else you love.

To get the ocean to move,
we all stand in it, hip-deep,

plunge both hands in, push
the water away from us

with palms up, and then
turn our palms, bringing

the water and our hands
closer. Row, everyone

we know, we love, the work
is easy with so many hands.

Many Happy Returns

Many Happy Returns

Look at the mountain.
Bend your eyes

at the knees, then insert
your gaze at the

base. It scrapes away all
at once, eyes plus

mind makes a good forklift.
For your birthday,

I will buy you a genuine

leather mountain-

carrying case, tooled with
your name, and

the date you wanted the land
so much you took

it with you. Sometimes,
the case is heavy,

the mountain wrapping its
arms around you,

pulling you home. Others,
you won’t even

remember you have it, what
is this, you will

wonder, the strap between
thumb and finger.

Europa

Europa

Even while surrounded by ice,
there is buried water not frozen,

never freezing. Floating in the dark
brine, sealed off from humans,

microorganisms, mouths full of
saltwater cud. A scientist learns

this, hollers out, delighted. Rejoice:
even in the most inhospitable places,

life. Rejoice: for this means that
out on Jupiter’s icy, smooth moon,

maybe microorganisms, too. It is
possible we could be less alone.

How to Heal?

If you read my post yesterday, you will have noticed that there was a death in my family. My mother-in-law passed away this week, and everyone who knew and loved her (many, many people--our family, and her enormous circle of friends) is in pain and grief this week. She was (and is) a beautiful, caring, vibrant soul.

I wrote poems for Cindy here, and for those aching without her. I also wrote this post in the fall, about poems as tiny doses of comfort and love.

Now I ask you....what other poems would you recommend for those who are grieving? I am especially looking for poems dealing with loss. I would love to read and share them.

Thank you for your kind thoughts this week, and any suggestions. Go hug the people you love.