I notice my glistening

hands undried

in the silver

of a new wash.

Am I absent mindedly

hoping not to grow

further into

these life lines? 

Presumably

they are similar

to the ones

held in youthfulness

by a SoothSayer 

who professed three

long marriages

seemingly barren but

loving,  while

further foretelling a

long-life-cut-short

Relatively,

by a forward push

down dark and

steeply set stairs

and stares, aged 90

apparently.

So far all is so

thankfully wrong

and yet

despite 27 years

spent loving just

the one

when I fret

I need deep breath

to feel heart

in chest

and carefully

stop life

and spend Time

to keep every

single step

in line.

 

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