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      September 12, 2011RelicKathleen A. Wakefield

      Only a severed finger was returned
      from each of the bodies
      —from an NPR hourly news report, March 2008

       

      The one bruised

      by hammer and rock

       

       

      knew also the coolness of stone
      rolled in the pocket, traced a name in dust,
      hollow of a lover’s throat.

       

       

      Steered lever, joystick, shovel, wheel, bullet and blade,
      was part of a hand that wanted to strike
      and did, a time or two.

       

       

      In the great cities
      hailed the cab. Pointed, This way.
      Held aloft, sought the wind’s direction.

      from #34 - Winter 2010

      Kathleen A. Wakefield

      “I was driving, listening to NPR when I heard a report about the return of only a single severed finger from each of three persons killed in Iraq. The story haunted me, and also touched a personal nerve. Over a period of about ten years, my mother went through a series of leg amputations, one leg, then the other, now one above the knee, and so on, because of a rare disease which eventually killed her. A friend who is an Orthodox Jew shared with me the custom of conducting a funeral for each part of the body as it is lost, an excruciatingly concrete reminder of one’s mortality, I thought. At the same time, I saw the great wisdom of recognizing the loss of a part of oneself. I kept wondering how the families in the news story could make peace with their terrible double loss, and so, wishing to offer something, I wrote ‘Relic.’”