Start with silence.
It will teach you the thickness of things.

Do not trust the places
that look smooth.

Carry salt in your pocket
but not in your mouth.

Pretend your heart is a candle
and the wind is waiting.

Notice the cracks
but keep going.

If the lake holds,
call it mercy.
If it doesn’t,
call it memory.

Either way,
leave your name
in the frost
on a window
no one
remembers
opening.

---

Veronica Tucker is a poet, physician, and mother of three living in New Hampshire. Her work explores the intersections of care, memory, and being human. Her poems have appeared in One Art, Red Eft Review, and redrosethorns. More can be found at veronicatuckerwrites.com and on Instagram @veronicatuckerwrites.