The Poetry Project

MANY HANDS MAKE LIGHT

Hannah Treasure

MANY HANDS MAKE LIGHT

work is nearly over: when the grocery store closes a queer
dance party will open in the dirty checkered aisles under
shedding confetti coupons, discoballs from wasted foil

though I must have forgotten how to party: in my dreamworld
everyone continues milking the clock in order to avoid space
free of direction (“mingle?”) to sit down and take a layer off

the checkout clerk remains behind the conveyor belt investigates
my piece of gruyère in a way that says we’re flirting we busy
ourselves seeing rat holes in the walls as skylights

until finally someone frees that ladder to the roof
aprons shed along the stacks of seltzer, one by one
we ascend to form a small bouquet in the wind

made from discard: rhubarb stems, fennel flowerheads
(supposedly the root gave courage centuries back)
cherry pit pile among the chimneys

I can’t wait for more, I can get better at it
loving the moonlight disclosing each finger

Work from Funny Swirl with Morgan Bassichis

Elsewhere