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….
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