Introduction by Ted Kooser: Faced by a loss, and perhaps by a loss of words, many of us find something to do with our hands. Here's a poem about just that by Arden Levine, published in 2015 in an issue of Agni Magazine. Ms. Levine lives in New York.

Offering

She tells him she's leaving him and he

bakes a pie. His pies are exquisite,

their crusts like crinoline.

He doesn't change clothes, works

in slacks, shirtsleeves rolled.

Summer makes the kitchen unbearable

But he suffers beautifully, tenderly

cuts the strawberries, pours

into the deep curve of the bowl.

She hadn't missed his hands since

last they drew her to his body.

Now she watches them stroke the edges

of the dough, shape it like cooling glass.

When the oven opens, his brow drips,

he brings his hands to his face.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2015 by Arden Levine, “Offering,” (AGNI Magazine, 2015). Poem reprinted by permission of Arden Levine and the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2016 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

One of my heroes is gone. On Saturday evening, my grandmother, Vivian Burch Holmes, passed away at the age of 97.

My grandma was my hero because she was so full of life, interested in living and in other people right up until the end. Until recently, she went to hospitals and nursing homes to visit and play bingo with the “old people.” She lived independently until November, when the effects of a small stroke made it too hard for her to climb the stairs to her basement-level apartment. I know she found it very difficult to move to an assisted living facility near my aunt, leaving her friends, her church and her independence behind.

I didn’t know my grandma as well as I would have liked. For all of my growing up years, I lived in California and she lived in Virginia. I visited her a time or two, and she came out to California a couple times as well, notably for my high school graduation. She wrote to me regularly, even up until a few weeks before her death. I’m so glad I wrote back and she was able to hear and understand my letter before she died. I always thought of her as Grandma Burch, even when she remarried after my grandfather died. (Her second husband passed away some years ago.)

Even with our sporadic contact, I have many happy memories of Grandma. She tried to teach me how to crochet (I never advanced beyond one long string of yarn) and she did teach me how to do candlewicking. One of my favorite memories is of the time she came to visit us in Florida, and my dad and stepmom came from California, when Nick was about 3. It was near Grandma’s birthday, so every time we went out to eat, we told the servers it was her birthday, and they came and sang to her. The best time was at a Mexican restaurant where they made her wear a giant sombrero while they serenaded her. You can see by her big smile she’s enjoying the experience! Other memories of that visit include a trip to Disney World, and a looong toy guitar “concert” given by Nick out on our lanai which everyone endured more or less patiently.