Poet’s Corner – On Looking for a Glove Lost on a Walk

By Lory Framkel

I retrace my steps, eyes peeled to the ground,
seeing the dead leaves, bits of trash tossed from car windows—
a bottle here, a nozzle wrenched from a gas can there—

Why is the ground so uneven, so unyielding?

It’s not so much the loss
as the looking:
unsure, shading to hallucinatory.

I’ve turned into a beam, a spotlight.
What was it I was seeking?
Does it even still exist?

How much have I missed with my eyes peeled to the ground 
in search of a stray piece of fabric or metal,
blinders raised to everything else around me? 

There it is, out of the blue, etched sharply against the dull earth,
stretched out as if asking permission to return.

I return it to my hand, knowing I must
return my hand to my body, 
and my body to the world, 
blinders down, face to the sun rays that don’t ask permission to enter. 

Top photo: Bigstock