He notes that lines cross his hands'
palms like broken hieroglyphs,dried up canals, or lost roads
in a desert. Creases and carvings.
Clues of use. Scars. Upholstery
stiched after the fact. Sometimes,
he thinks, it's nice to hold a cat's
or dog's paw--those plump pads,
cushioning for leaps, lopes,
and sprints. Something sacred--
isn't there?--about palms and paws,
blooms on the stems of evolution,
epidermal note-paper, tiny
meadows of toil and calm.
hans ostrom 2024
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