Sleight of Hand

May 16, 2007

“Destiny is in your hands.”

It was right after graduation when
I heard it from a fortune teller,
my silver quickly disappearing into
the darkness of her robe before
I could snatch it back. I started
telling her to at least fool me a bit
but she cut me off by closing the flap
over the gaping mouth of the carnival tent.

I looked on silently as she
called out to the night sky,
arms raised gracefully,
catching slivers of
moonshine in her hair-
softly spun strands of
shimmering magic lengthening
then weaving itself into visions

in my palm as her fingertip traced
the lines to the edges of my hand where
it went on to transform into glowing
strings tied to things I have touched:
pencils, clutched tightly through exams,
books, held both with wonder and boredom,
chalks, crumbling into powder as my
teachers wrote about the hands of

mothers cradling us to sleep,
fathers guiding our first steps,
classmates hi-fiving each other in hallways,
friends pulling us up or embracing us
so our lifelines entangle in knots-
leaving imprints of each other,
plaiting futures into any path
we may wish to follow.

Rate this Poem @ GotPoetry.com

One comment

  1. Such a glimmering thread you weave for us. very nicely put how palms do indeed hold this world.

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