Saturday, February 18, 2017

Tell Me How (Day 30)


Photo: Atchoo, via WikiMedia 


Tell Me How

Tell me about the dandelion 
weightlessness of fine blonde hair 
in a deep tub of warm water

Tell me about the hushed 
porcine grunts and whimpers 
made by a litter of nursing pups, 
aquiver with urgency, while 
their mother, eyes half open,
rests patiently on her side

Tell me how, when the fog 
rolls in from the darkness,
an echoing silence descends 
on the harbor, muffling 
the thunder of waves 
against the jetty, while 
magnifying the commonplace,
rendering each overheard voice 
an unexpected intimacy

And tell me how—when you 
last saw her, and took her 
in your arms to wrench 
a final goodbye from the aching
 knot in your chest, 
you suddenly realized 
that, for a moment, she knew 
who you were 

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six