Each date line
Is a future stained
In pencil marks,

Each grand crease
Of the palm
Another corrupted
Image—

Cuts upon cuts upon
Beautiful, minuscule cuts.

Each intersection,
Each fine line

Telling a story.

Skinned pavement,
Pencil callouses,
Oven burns, or perhaps

Bruised thumbs,
Stray rebounds,
Sharp-edged comic books

Candle wax,
Rose thorns,

A tightly clutched hand...

I think I'll trace
The origins of that
Last one.