by Daniel Hess
An empty, leather glove reclining there
holds well the shape, a hollow hand encased
in-girds the grip, which, pulseless, on its pair
stands at the ready –trim, prepared and chaste—
awaits one incarnation, to fill
its empty image and wake this weary will.
While often failing to find the right balance in time management and priorities, Daniel Hess delights in finding poetry in unexpected places and the joy of bringing it to life with words.
Photography by Kenneth Godoy