The intricacy of lace,
Or delicate vintage ironwork,
Even carefully chiseled leather,
And the lines of a rugged man’s face
Are seen as more beautiful than
The fine line work across the back of a lady’s hand.
Yet I’ve never undertaken a project so demanding
Than the steady tracing I’ve been building
On my knuckles, veins and tendons.
The ranks of these artists march row after row.
Yet such massive undertaking can only be undone by
That master white rubber eraser Death, what a guy!