after Henry Reed
Today, we have naming of parts.
Soon will be the cleaning of them, but for today,
we have naming of parts.
These feet, for instance, have traipsed across the bay
Where once young radicals protested tea.
And these legs, now thick and creaky,
Which once rocked a short skirt
like hair metal in a dingy bar.
The knees, who have few stories all their own,
Still cling to kneeling, asking, proposing
To illustrate their importance to the whole.
Hips that shimmy, belly that shakes,
we shall skim over
Like shantung silk on wedding night.
Shoulders that hold up the world,
offer a platform for friends in pain,
and shake with silent tears when all is done.
This spine that does so much,
holds everything together, straight
and proud. Painful reminder to bend with the wind.
And these lips, these eyes
Eyes that see the world, lips
that describe it. eyes
that tear, eyes that wink.
Lips that kiss the pain away.
But today, it is the hands
with their silent, eloquent gestures
(which we have indeed got).
These hands have stroked the
fur of beloved dying cat.
They have comforted the bereaved,
toyed with the living.
These hands make anything from
strawberry cake to chains dripping with jewels
to smoothly whirring electronic servers
and pages filled with words.
So much love expressed
by a simple pair of hands.