The Cure
Sarah Gorham
CUPPED HANDS
Whether left palm over right as in TM
or curved side by side—
human hands are full of leaks. Still,
if we press the fingers close,
by sheer will sealing flesh to flesh,
they will hold something.
—An early disappointment:
a hundred foil-wrapped eggs
in pastel colors. For the taking,
I thought, and began to pluck
from window sills, copper pots,
the dark toes of daddy’s socks.
Then the grown-up lesson,
the more I took
the more the eggs resisted
nesting, and capsized, wobbled
away. I ate one tiny handful.
Whether spice drops or wafers
or water carried quickly
over land, we let things slip.
Our hands cupped together
exactly heart-sized;
one hand
alone won’t do.
