Grandfather’s Handsby Julianne Jigour The backs of Grandfather’s hands are red-splotched and faint-haired. The skin loose and delicate. Blue rivulets spread wildly. Like little secrets, they impose their shape. Flesh fades into translucence, I think, and that’s death. But Grandfather’s fingers are tough-callused at the tips. Five yellowed nails brighten the aged veneer of accordion … Continue reading Poem Entitled Grandfather’s Hands