Your Capable Hands
by
Radiance Angelina Petro

Mr. Russell says we cannot
prove or disprove that we are
not being created at this very second.

The unembodied self, the little packets
of light, the bee’s patterned dances—the more
honey the more livelier the dance,

doesn’t seem to be too concerned.
The wind asks leading questions,
the bird’s mind is disguised as wings.

Whether or not Mr. Russell is right
there are crayfish under the rocks at the edge
of the lake, and the eastern gate to heaven

is always open. Whatever the truth is—
travel on light ground. There is are uncared for
gardens that need your capable hands.