My hands fascinate me
because all I have left
of her is the dirt under
my fingernails.

The lines in my palms
all point towards the
past and everything I've
ever held.

And my fat knuckles
are getting harder and
harder for me to keep
cracking them.

Nails, bones, knuckles,
tendons, joints, creases,
cuticles, scars, burns,
varicose veins.

No two hands are
ever held the same.