Imagine an arm sprouted from your chest
anchored at the sternum and
strong because near the heart.
Articulate the fingers into a fist,
then open again as far as they’ll stretch.
It will feel strange for a while
like your lover’s name in her first language.
Coordinate your middle hand with your right
working up through a scaffold of chores.
Open all the blinds in the house at sunrise;
wipe the loose dirt from the lobes of
mushrooms soaking in the sink.
Practice these like prayer.
When you can lift the cobweb
whole from the cabinet corner,
you’re ready. Loosen her hair
from the reeds and pull her from the river.
It will be difficult because
she didn’t ask for your help.
She doesn’t need your saving.
Warren Joseph Fong is a writer and office worker. He lives in Los Angeles with his cat, Figaro, and friends.
*Photo courtesy of Colin Davis.