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I can only make out small parts
of it instead of the whole,
and yet it reaches just long
enough for me to see little
by little, a finger here, a knuckle
there, but never the hand al-
together, except in a vision
for which I’m loathe to take
any credit, even for a nail
or mole, which I don’t, lest
I lose sight of the hand
that isn’t there but holds
my attention as if it were,
even as a vision in place
of the hand that is, that’s other,
if partial in the void behind
the veil I hang across my
eyes for seeing it move.
Copyright 2021 Chard deNiord
Chard deNiord’s many books include In My Unknowing (Pitt Press, 2020). He is cofounder of the New England College MFA program in poetry.
Ah. That is so beautiful!
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Ya
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