Out Like a Lamb

Hands

She said
my hands are like
water

I had forgotten this
until tonight when bedtime's
palm against my cheek became
the curve of a river bend
the cradle of a watery womb
a gentle lapping,
wave-meets-shore

and rain outside's reminder
pooling into memories of sleep.



note ▼

April 21—Salient image (poem based on one concrete thing you remember at day’s end)