Loving the Hands
By
Julie Suk
I could make a wardrobe
with tufts of wool
caught on thistle and bracken.
Lost—the scraps
I might have woven whole cloth.
Come watch, the man says,
shearing sheep
with the precision of long practice,
fleece, removed all of a piece,
rolled in a neat bundle.
I’ve been so clumsy
with people who’ve loved me.
Straddling a ewe,
the man props its head on his foot,
leans down with clippers,
each pass across the coat a caress.
His dogs, lying nearby,
tremble at every move—as I do,
loving the hands that have learned
to gentle the life beneath them.
with tufts of wool
caught on thistle and bracken.
Lost—the scraps
I might have woven whole cloth.
Come watch, the man says,
shearing sheep
with the precision of long practice,
fleece, removed all of a piece,
rolled in a neat bundle.
I’ve been so clumsy
with people who’ve loved me.
Straddling a ewe,
the man props its head on his foot,
leans down with clippers,
each pass across the coat a caress.
His dogs, lying nearby,
tremble at every move—as I do,
loving the hands that have learned
to gentle the life beneath them.
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Disclaimer
We do not accept unsolicited submissions. American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2011 by Julie Suk, from her most recent book of poems, Lie Down with Me: New and Selected Poems, Autumn House Press, 2011. Poem reprinted by permission of Julie Suk and the publisher. Introduction copyright © 2024 by The Poetry Foundation.