Author Information
ossuary of quiet hands
Folder:
revisited oeuvre
“Ossuary of Quiet Hands”
These palms do not fold themselves out of grace;
they harden into the shape of what they released.
In the long trench behind the granary,
we found the fingers bent like winter rye,
holding nothing but the draft that passed between them.
Here, no one asks whose knuckle touched the latch first.
The bone forgets the salt of the forehead.
The bone remembers only the cold
that came before the light was turned away.
.
