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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