The Human Touch 2013 - University of Colorado Denver
The Human Touch 2013 - University of Colorado Denver
The Human Touch 2013 - University of Colorado Denver
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My Practice<br />
Laura Katers<br />
That morning<br />
I never heard<br />
the familiar creaks in the fl oorboards,<br />
the echo <strong>of</strong> the neighbor<br />
in the hall, rushing away, the quiet<br />
birds building to a colored roar,<br />
only the buzz<br />
<strong>of</strong> all <strong>of</strong> my bones,<br />
against the perfect place<br />
<strong>of</strong> the rain.<br />
That night<br />
release, listening<br />
to the moon rise<br />
through a cavern <strong>of</strong> dark,<br />
imagining one thousand whispered<br />
“good nights” along the highways, the<br />
hallways, remembering<br />
the beating hearts<br />
ka kum ka kum, the lungs<br />
fi lling and fi lling<br />
on hope, my own quiet rocking<br />
in my parents arms. Like nothing<br />
I have ever heard, like nothing<br />
I ever will. •<br />
That day<br />
I listened<br />
to twenty beating hearts, each<br />
full and impossible, lungs<br />
infl ating on last night’s dream, the quick<br />
refl exive swallow<br />
<strong>of</strong> responsibility. I heard<br />
the distant knock<br />
<strong>of</strong> depression, letting itself sneakily in,<br />
denial circling in a storm out the<br />
backyard window, the tinkling<br />
<strong>of</strong> regret threatening<br />
to tear the shingles<br />
from the ro<strong>of</strong>.<br />
That evening<br />
a birth, followed by a<br />
death, both sounding the same,<br />
until all the wailing.<br />
PG 124<br />
PG 125