[Poem] Palm Sunday
Palm Sunday by Katherine Hodge In the arms of the cello a child is sleeping, restless with sound oceans dampened in her mother’s arms Sleep, child, and let my worn strings hold your notes through the tides through the mute Sleep– The fantasy of the fingered vibrato the black water of my open string my pluck my slap– I am your bow to draw slumbering through your long, forced salt In time, I will call you again After all the blooming, and your death, and your resurrection b rine On a Sunday morning in a dangerous spring Palm on palms and dry wood hollow for love, resin into water for what is to come You will know my arms again And it will be the saddest joy
