Whispered Legacies

1.

On the lines of my sister’s palm:

a dead cow’s open eyes, head of a doll. White plastic bags of used sanitary napkins.
Bits of bristles from the doll’s hair. Broken eggshells. Shampoo bottles. Soap wrappers. Rat corpse.

On the lines of my sister’s palm:

Discarded medicine bottles. An old television box gathering muck. The closed paper mill.
Chimneys reduced to crows’ nests, rusting cranes, closed iron gates overrun by orchids.

On the lines of my sister’s palm:

empty cicada shells, an afternoon of snoring adults. The clandestine rituals
of sneaking out, raindrops on the yellow of the cab bonnet.

On the lines of my sister’s palm:

the slow shriek of the afternoon coal-train, limping courtyards of textile mills
empty machine rooms, explosion of prickly fruits. Anything that is redundant.