We are connected by the trails of our veins.

The lines
on the inside
of your face

line the grooves
running the bark
of a tree

Those lines
trace your laughters
and long nights

Those lines
trace your blood

Those lines
lead your lineage
back through

mothers and sons
fathers and mothers
daughters and brothers

and then
the mothers
of those

With satin
in billows
to curtain

your face
and light
freckled tissue

With pale windows
which open and close
revealing the lines

and
the secrets
of the lines

Those lines
on the inside
of your face

have always been
my favorite place
for hiding