Slight Tremor

Linda Gregerson

 
The fine fourth finger
of his fine right hand,
just slightly, when
he's tracking our path
on his iPhone or
repairing the clasp
on my watch I
will not think about
the myelin sheath.
Slight tremor only,
transient, so
the flaw in the
pavement must
have been my
mother's back.
 
From The Selvage by Linda Gregerson. Copyright © 2012 by Linda Gregerson. Reprinted with permission of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. All rights reserved.

Poems by This Author

An Arbor by Linda Gregerson
The world's a world of trouble, your mother must
Bicameral by Linda Gregerson
Choose any angle you like, she said
Narrow Flame by Linda Gregerson
Dark still. Twelve degrees below freezing.


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