Straight To The Heart

The Memory of Hands

I still have the phone
it is like you
strong and raw
and old bones
What's left of a life
there on a wooden shelf
with a carved heart

While you were beneath dark earth
in a wooden box
they put you in a grave
all neat and crated
Ready for your burial
next to your family

While there in the heat
hundreds unburied
their lives destroyed
from hurricane rubble

Before flinging houses
this born-at-sea storm
flings you from your body
as you once flung me
from wall to wall
with your all to familiar hands
eyes and baody hurt
with remembering

I have discarded the phone
for now
it is silent
as bones
with quiet conversations
The sounds of different people
the memory
of hands

© Copyright 2005 Sherri Lynn Whittaker 8/18/78

Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
The Memory of Hands

111,955 Poems Read