AN OLD MAN’S HANDS
My body has a skim coat,
newer than a young man’s skin.
Unlike snake casings,
it appeared slowly -
not noticed until almost done.
Sometimes it feels like a onesie,
but it’s just me.
My hands are starting to look
like my father’s pair
bulging veins and smaller tributaries,
lots of purple, bruising easily.
Old men with coumadin tattoos
disturbed me,
but now I’m comfortable
with my own stigmata.
My skin was smooth and tight
now it’s dry and loose
with mounds and tendrils.
My nose ripens and my gizzard sags
keeping time
with my old man’s hands.