You take a rock, your hand is hard.
You raise your eyes, and there's a pair
of small beloveds, caught in pails.
The monocle and eyepatch correspond.
You take a glove, your hand is soft.
The ocean floor was done
in lizardskin. Around a log or snag
the surface currents run
like lumber about a knot. A boat
is bent to sea—we favor the medium
we're in, our shape's
around us. It takes time.
At night, the bed alive, what
teller of truth could tell
the two apart? Lover, beloved,
hope is command. Your hand
is given, when you take a hand.
Heather McHugh's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Constructive by Heather McHugh )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(January 6, 1883 – April 10, 1931)
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
(5 November 1850 - 30 October 1919)
- As I Grew Older, Langston Hughes
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- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- A Psalm of Life, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Night Thoughts, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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