It doesn’t matter how 

I try,

Loop my clinched primate fingers

Onto

Life.

As if life is solid. 

It will still drip 

Through my fingers  

Amber honey 

Created by millions of beings from infinitesimal 

Minikin sparks of light

To boundless cavernous 

Black holes  

While rains will, over not very much time at all,

Wash my hands, 

Bone white. 

If I just let go 

Maybe waters of the river 

Will instead

Swirl

Round me.

I can

Pretend 

I

Am

Rock

And

Not

Flesh.

© Susan Lynn Gesmer, November 2020