September 13, 2010

BOX

Imagine a box
green and lacquered
painted with gold
polished hasps

I will write my hopes
unfulfilled
on index cards
and tuck them inside

or burn them
at havdalah
that separation between
holy and profane

a friend clasps
my hand, reminds me
you were a mother
honor that


and everything
I've been picturing
crumbles to ash
and blows away


Rachel Barenblat
from Miscarriage Poems: THROUGH

1 comment:

  1. "a friend clasps
    my hand, reminds me
    you were a mother
    honor that"

    I especially like that part. Beautiful poem!

    ReplyDelete