03/01/2014

Your father
greases the discer: bearing grease, delo
grease, dark as the soil
it turns. Luminous, the little
drips silken.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

“Hands” is part of a larger set that deals with interactions between laboring bodies, organic and inorganic materials. For years, in a small farming town in New Jersey, I watched these interactions unfold. “Hands” was my way of memorializing this history.

BIO:

Sara J. Grossman has been awarded fellowships from The MacDowell Colony, Hedgebrook, and Virginia Center for the Creative Arts. Her poems have been published or are forthcoming in The Cincinnati Review, Guernica, Memorious, Louisville Review and elsewhere.
MORE POEMS:

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'In the dream I am a strange dealer', Anne Marie Rooney


11/11/2009
'Winter in the Dry Counties', William Logan


11/11/2009
'Civilization and Its Discontents', Don Share