An Early T’ai Chi Poem

Amy Hackenberg, Chicago IL

I feel the hands
creaseless and strong,
set lightly on my shoulders.

Light drains down leaves
loosen in the breeze
rustles to release sharp glints.

Palms reach beneath
skin to fissures,
smoothing seams azure.

I feel the dark liquid collect
deep down thick;
a smooth black vase holding my blood.

Originally appeared in: September 1991

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