Literary Yard

Search for meaning

By: Tom Roth


i reached over my head
skimmed the counter
with my hands thinking
opened palms were up there
waiting for me
above the edge
but a crockpot
crashed on my

i cried not in pain
but in fear of
not knowing
about heavy things
above my sight
out of my reach
waiting up there
like unseen hands
of tablets

i was never tall
enough to know
if those stone hands
working above
could be touched
by any reach
of any hand
skimming the

even now
reaching over my head
offers nothing
for my hands
except the doubt
of unseen
hands pushing
a crockpot off
the edge again



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