Hands

 The back of my hand

reveals the cartographic

symbols of age - spotting,

bunching, a thinning of the 

skin.  Widening and puffing

on days of pain, humidity, 

and too much salt.

Some days these hands look

like my father's and other days

they look like my mother's.

Each betraying the fact that 

I had sworn I would not

become like either of them -

as if it were ours to be able

to choose or deny.