To not have been the homely sister, good
only for sweeping dust from under the stairs
To have the courage to say here
kiss me here and here and here
To drink the silence of afternoons
gratefully in long cold gulps
To surrender the plate, the spoon,
the knife, the fork, after I am done
To keep back one kernel of sweet, one
serif, several bedsprings of light
To carve the likeness of a saint’s hand
after it has been severed from the wrist