Poetry by Jay Hopler
What is there in all this clutter / That loves you?
(being an apostrophe to my hands)
Poor dumb lugs, what loves you?
What is there in all this clutter
That loves you? Not the butter
Fly knife, not the corkscrew,
Not the thumbtacks scattered
At the back of the junk drawer.
& yet, you keep reaching. What for?
The fishhook, were it woo’d,
Would kiss you no differently than would it kiss
A trout’s soft mouth. The Swiss
Army Knife, the icepick, this wood
Chisel—. You’d bleed a lot less
If you were a church, its steeple
Reaching Heavenward; of course, you’d need
fingers to make a steeple.
Jay Hopler’s most recent collection of poetry, The Abridged History of Rainfall, was a Finalist for the 2016 National Book Award in Poetry. He teaches in the writing program at the University of South Florida.