He did not want to use his father’s skills;
to show that he was (beyond expression)
differently abled: he was human,
after all.
Yet it was her cousin’s cousin’s son—
a poor wedding—and the wine ran out.
She could not help but look at him; just a
quick glance, seeing that saving face matters,
illuminating in a tiny flash
skeins of the complex webs which hold us up,
so that his gaze fell on the water jars
with their dark liquid circles where he saw
her glance again. It was only a question
of moving a few electrons sideways—
not a great task—and yet there was a great shift
of empathy and love.


previously published in The Tablet