Furrow and Gouge

Furrow and Gouge

by Hannah Chapple

My grandmother etched line drawings on white paper— an eagle poisedin the groove between mountains, wings air wideand reaching— mother and daughter,hands buried deep in dough, learningbread and stories in the home quiet.  Your non-dominant hand revealsnatural personality and character,while your dominant hand shows traitsyou choose to practice. My hands are echoes of her hands, twistingyarns into shape, darkening pages with furrow and gouge.  My grandmother was well-practiced atsneaking. When she wanted chocolate donuts or scratch-offs, her long grin sweptbright across her face, whispered our secret into the air. Air hands— square palms and long fingers-mean curious, intellectual,if easily distracted. Her hands were like air, palm cuppedto my hairline, fingers dancing through warm bath water,a trace reaching outward always fromher through memory and time. My love line only reaches my middle finger, indicates potential restlessness. Each time I begana new life— answered a call blood-deepthat whispered with her voice—she took my hand in hers,sent her peculiar heirinto the chill light of morning.  The depth of a lifeline marks richness of experience.By the end her handswere paper, deep-grooved, my fingerswrapped in pages of her. Losing her cut long across space between us,chill air gone quiet, fallen dark.
A diagonal seam tying life line to sun linesignals inheritance. This furrowspreads deep across each of my hands.

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Featured in our November 2022 issue, "Groove"