Spring 2008 • Vol. XXX No. 2 PoetryApril 1, 2008 |

How like the Heart the Thumb

hangs back or hooks on, expecting quick results and, when it can, exults alone by lifting. No one pays them heed till there's a pressing need. Both bleed. One builds an ark of bone or decorates a sleeve. One slips on a glove or hitchhikes for reprieve. Unlike the heart (more like the loins) the thumb only joins by opposing. When applying force, slyly offhand as an Einstein's of course, the thumb will descend, clumsy and stubborn and dumb to clampits self-evident whorl unlike any other on the cruel world. How unlike the heart whose dewy stamp, hard to read and common, will fade—and often run—before the loved one can depart.

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J. Allyn Rosser’s most recent book of poems is Foiled Again. She teaches at Ohio University, where she edits New Ohio Review.

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hangs back or hooks on, expecting quick results and, when it can, exults alone by lifting. No one pays them heed till there's a pressing need. Both bleed. One builds […]

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