June 7, 2014Splitting
After the china
I guess we next split
silver, he said,
I claim the neutrons
—she didn’t laugh—
or any other tarnished
subatomics, and me no
polish, but you,
you atom-splitter,
you must be Eve.
She stared and said
the silver was her parents’.
Amen, I understand,
he said, you keep your
spoons to cradle
what you love,
and forks to hold
the things you want,
and matching batch
of knives to spread
a smooth sweet
surface, or slice
things right
in half.
from #20 - Winter 2003