A short narrative poem.
However, this poem made me wonder about the difference between what the mind wants and what the body is willing to do. The poem is a memory set up in the first line, "Last night when my work was done." In my notes I wonder what "work" means in this context. Is the work something different or something the same -- or maybe a little of both.
"And my estranged hands / Were becoming mutually interested / In such forgotten things as pulses" There's a grim sense in these lines -- a distance in which is defined by the language of "estranged" then turning "mutually interested. The "pulses" image has a weird positive and negative connotation for me. The comparison is a simile to "forgotten things", so there's a feeling of a second wind, a pulse that's interesting, but there's also a hidden history here of why are pulses forgotten. Good reasons? Bad reasons?
The last four lines encapsulate a certain expanse:
I looked out of a window
Into a glittering night sky.
And instantlyThe inspiration from the sky is cliche, but the feather-stiching a ring around the moon is interested. Remember this is what the hands and the mind agree to do -- go beyond the expanse into metaphor. Something intangible or maybe ineffable to agree upon.
I began to feather-stitch a ring around the moon