Jean Francois Millet, "The Angelus"

The Joining of Hands

by Nathaniel Tarn

Our hands unable to touch
our fingers begin to think
We work across landscapes
thick with impediments
I begin to walk through you
you walk through me for a while
coming upon clear prairies
and then we are retrieved.

Sleepwalking in the streets
crossing a bridge
as if we were to couple
among the roots of trees
I’ve laid our freedom on this town
a map a grid
and the sea has rushed in
to drown intelligence

In the poem I give you my hands
where you will sense
their joining overhead
give me the birds of summer
beyond intelligence
for they know ways in air
far countries where we need not meet
married already there

In the poem I give you my hands

You cannot lose