Poem for Poetry Thursday
Woo hoo! It's Poetry Thursday again.
This week is the first time since the end of NaPoWriMo that I feel my creativity coming back. Being so drained was something I never anticipated. In any case, I have a few poems in the queue so I am a happy camper right about now.
Needless to say, this one is new. Still need work but good enough to post.
Cross Your Fingers
This is enough for now, his hand in mine,
his middle finger crossing the index—
a giggle at the body’s minor contortion
and the chance to learn something new.
He doesn’t understand how often
we lay our hopes on this X,
curling a wish inside our hands.
It’s more than a barefoot afternoon,
or the wildflowers bordering our fence
with all of their cautious pinks and yellows.
Oh, how pretty, he says
I hear how brilliant, how beautiful
crossing his fingers in affirmation,
in faith, because sometimes
he does what he doesn’t understand.
He needs all the luck he can get.
This week is the first time since the end of NaPoWriMo that I feel my creativity coming back. Being so drained was something I never anticipated. In any case, I have a few poems in the queue so I am a happy camper right about now.
Needless to say, this one is new. Still need work but good enough to post.
Cross Your Fingers
This is enough for now, his hand in mine,
his middle finger crossing the index—
a giggle at the body’s minor contortion
and the chance to learn something new.
He doesn’t understand how often
we lay our hopes on this X,
curling a wish inside our hands.
It’s more than a barefoot afternoon,
or the wildflowers bordering our fence
with all of their cautious pinks and yellows.
Oh, how pretty, he says
I hear how brilliant, how beautiful
crossing his fingers in affirmation,
in faith, because sometimes
he does what he doesn’t understand.
He needs all the luck he can get.
Comments
I loved the positive affirmation of it!
That's the line that crosses back on itself (from the fifth line in the poem)--and that's the very middle of that X we all live, isn't it? Tres smart, Jan.
P.S. Happy Birthday to your man!
Deb, there is a little melancholy and hope in the poem. Ah, motherhood.
Marie, there are so many superstitions I thought about like dandelions wishes, the rabbit's foot, stepping on cracks, etc. Looking forward to stopping by your blog!
I just loved this poem. It really evoked my relationship with my own children. Beautiful.
best,
lisa