Carving Hope
She saw Hope trying to fly in a shop
the day she was free and wore a red suit
and sang to herself near the inns of court.
Sculptures everywhere, and Hope, the height
of a sun-dial, winged with eyes shut.
Why is Hope blind? she asked the man.
You can’t carve an open eye in wood.
Metal or stone, but not in wood, he said
and gave technical reasons. The conversation
flew to giving. There’s nothing you can give
without causing obligation, he said.
Doubt, argument, questions, questions.
Do happy memories create obligation?
Doesn’t hope have half an eye open?
Page(s) 11
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