Palm Reader

Palm Reader

The frigid waiting room is,

for us alone, filled with warmth.

You curl at my side, my tender hearth,

eyelids hung low and drifting into half-sleep.


Your sea-mist eyes are haloed, a valley

of purple-black exhaustion.

The fingers that I hold limply in my own

are weathered, matured past us by decades,

mottled in week old scrapes, latticed in

untimely wrinkles.


I wrap this feverish hand

in each of mine, bonding our fate lines

with a light squeeze.

A gentle, nescient promise

to keep us young, for now. 

Published By: Loyola University Maryland

2023


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