The Back Of My Hand

February is a cruel month
Too cold and forbidding in the upper mid-west
To venture outside, just for diversion
I sat in dizzying silence instead
Under fluorescent light
And studied the back of my hand

The skin seemed thirsty, dull and furrowed
The skin of an older man
Blue tributaries of veins meandered like worms
Tendons bulged and heaved with every finger twitch
Small brown spots stippled
Deep parentheses emphasized my knuckles

Scars from my youth have been stonewashed
Their memories now only abstract
I thought I knew the back of my hand
It’s been there fifty-seven years
But I never really looked at it before
Now, I know it like…..

by Kelly Kurt

Comments (9)

....extremely nice with beautiful imagery ★
Well done, keep it up :)
Angel with a lily, that i like it.
Ava Maria Plena Gratia is about second coming of Christ nice one thanks
over with outstretched wings of marvelous the poet created this poem I exclaim. Great it is.
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