*

*

In my palm

I hold a sphere of lapis,

blue with flecks of gold.

I found it in her drawer,

resting in a cloth basket.

*

It lay in her hand

for thirty years

during meditation.

“It’s a microcosm,”

she told me once.

“The blue is space.

The gold flecks are stars.”

*

She’s gone now,

but I hold the universe

on my palm.

When I lift it to my nose,

I smell the lemon verbena lotion

she spread on her hands.

Such small things connect us.