The Sunday Poet: Abigail Wotton

 Abigail Wotton teaches English at Red Cloud Indian School, Pine Ridge, SD. Her creative work has appeared or is forthcoming in 805 Lit+Art, Kaaterskill Basin Literary Journal and Free Inquiry.







When the Heart Forgets

On Delancey Street,

hands like knotted tree bark,

flip and slap hot roti.

Hold the grocery bags on the train.

Hold the door,

look for the keys,

pick up the phone.

Slip peppermint candy into a child’s coat pocket. 

At home, a mother’s hands

linger by the microwave.

Clean the bottles,

pick up the baby,

put her down.

Leave pizza on the counter.

Make sure the door is locked.

And then check it again.

At the bar, a girl’s hands hold up the hands

of the girl next to her.

Whose are smaller?

Hands look at lines,

check for veins,

feel callouses.                                                                

The hand waves over another drink

for both of them.

When I drive

I stretch my hands out the window.

Hands know resilience

when the heart forgets.                                     

They can point out Cassiopeia

in an October sky.

If you can find the Big Dipper,

they say, you can see her.