Lucy Baby V

V.
I remember little things
About my dad.

His hands, mostly.
I’ve always been fascinated with hands.
The palm,
So sturdy and soft
And wrinkled
With the lines.

I remember he used to say
That every line meant something.

He showed me the line on his hand
That stretched across the widest part.

That’s how long you’ll live,
Rose.

But Daddy,
What happens when the line ends?

You get a new house,
And a new mommy
And a new daddy
A new little girl or boy.

And then
I ran crying and I dove under the bed
And I remember
His hands
Reaching under the bed.

Daddy!
I wailed
And I remember
Those hands
Reaching out
And pulling me up into the light.