A Palm Reading
by Ariana Landeira
You speak so easy of subtle signs, the constellations
you read startle my skin. I wonder
if these lines were etched before I was born. Doesn’t matter.
Unravel the maps, pluck the hidden arrows—
Buried into the heart of my hand. Tells me nothing new.
I am keenly aware of the elements, the way
they switch in significance. You already know all
about these imaginary travels I keep in mind.
Escape routes to the west help me
forget suburban burdens, perpetual confessions—
You know all about this resurrection;
my heart hurts for nobody, that’s all you had to say.
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