With palmistry,
there’s always
something to read.
My own palm’s
inscrutable, requiring
years of study, and
still I don’t
know my lines
—heart or head,
life or fate.
Still, though,
I’ll pull out
my hand, try to
make sense of it.
Reading ourselves
is the last, the
only, thing to do.
there’s always
something to read.
My own palm’s
inscrutable, requiring
years of study, and
still I don’t
know my lines
—heart or head,
life or fate.
Still, though,
I’ll pull out
my hand, try to
make sense of it.
Reading ourselves
is the last, the
only, thing to do.
Vivian Wagner lives in New Concord, Ohio, where she's an associate professor of English at Muskingum University. She's the author of a memoir, Fiddle: One Woman, Four Strings, and 8,000 Miles of Music (Citadel-Kensington); a full-length poetry collection, Raising (Clare Songbirds Publishing House); and three poetry chapbooks: The Village (Aldrich Press-Kelsay Books), Making (Origami Poems Project), and Curiosities (Unsolicited Press).
