Palm Reader

Palm reader I am not— Yet if I did Read hands imprinted, Trace readable lines, Tectonics Of grip and release, My own would be A most alien surface— This I have good sensed, Reflected at the mirror In honest light, A countenance of surprise To contrast my often image Self so pervasive A maestro of infinite deceptive batons— What insidious behavior These circumvents Seldom admitted as lies… In bald-faced defiance To evidence of the heart, An internal looking glass Of immutable truths and consequences— Oh my God Forgive this sin That I contrive You! Of my own choosing When to bless and rest, And redefine or ignore….