[Poem] Palm Sunday

Palm Sunday

by Katherine Hodge

In the arms of the cello

a child is sleeping,

restless with sound oceans

dampened in her mother’s arms

Sleep, child, and let my worn strings

hold your notes

through the tides

through the mute

Sleep–

The fantasy of the fingered vibrato

the black water of my open string

my pluck

my slap–

I am your bow to draw

slumbering through your long, forced salt

In time, I will call you again

After all the blooming, 

and your death, 

and your resurrection brine

On a Sunday morning in a dangerous spring

Palm on palms and dry wood

hollow for love,

water into resin for what is to come

You will know my arms again

And it will be the saddest joy