Author: Sonya Hartnett
Book: Surrender
Chapter: Gabriel
Page: 127
Paragraph: 2
In the center of my palms spread two dark lakes.
They are not wounds----flesh ices them over.
But the blackness is blood, gather swampishly.
When I press a finger to the fluid, it radiates.
When I clamp and unclamp my fists, it dissipates.
Slowly it refills, a little deeper each time, a little blacker, a swelling swamp.
Such unnescessary reminders of my approaching fate irritate me no end.
I drag words up my rusty throat and say to my body, "Look alive."
Subject: Approaching Fate 
Sat Feb 23, 2008 8:01 am