What to do with her hands
in front of this unexpected guest?
So she makes incorrigible pastries
of coaxing and folding;
mixes honey and nuts with frowning delicacy.
Like the woman who waits for the doctor
talking to strangers of recipes and cures.
Or the sick woman marshalling pillows;
details of the living to push away death.
Martha fusses to feed,
her embarrasses hands busy.
For if she sat down
she’d fly out the window
on overcome wings.