Ten Lines

Cupped vase, upended jellyfish, driver of nails and 
planer of wood.

Once, in the early morning, your right hand lost feeling.

Now can you sense again the stroke of a cotton-tipped 
wand on your palm?

The scratchy end of a bent twig, the tip of a nail file?

Sometimes the toaster and the coffeemaker cancel out 
each other. 

When that happens, we check the circuit breaker.

So much electricity, humming behind the walls.

Down the road, workers hoisted the 3D likeness of a red 
planet between two buildings.

There is no way we could actually stay it from its orbit, 
tether it with wire.

When you close your eyes, imagine the circuitry 
of your veins: a quiet city at night.