One hand

Mother to daughter—“How would you feel if I screamed in your ear?”
She’s seen a great deal, she jokes, of the backside of this world
It lowers my spirit to read about that mean, blind, idiot, her father,
how her transcendent, meticulous plans went bad...
Mother to daughter in illness—“Don’t forget me”
He craves savory fat food and he smokes
She craves the intensity of sunbaths and she drinks
They crave what they crave, god bless them...
Every time they fight they lose some small innocent piece
That weight, that speed, that fight
Her hand touches his hand—essence and empathy
Trauma beneath the masks, contagion in everything
He never expected to play so many roles,
his low threshold for frustration, his uncensored fervor
and always that long, strong, unconstrained reach
They never knew how much pain was in the sub-cellars of desire
Who among us, at least, doesn’t so happily love this universe?
She hangs out with the other bun-heads, smokes cigarettes
refuses to eat, drinks hot tea in plastic cups—
dances despite injury, solidity into fluidity, for fun
This world is a dangerous place full of strangers
She joyfully, today, wears the old pearl necklace he gave her
It’s an emblem for him of someplace done, gone, secret, past...
For this day they’ll be free together, warm and in love—
one hand into hand into grace

-September 30, 2012-