let's talk about fingers, spindly and raw

Let’s talk about fingers, spindly and raw

about fingertips: pearled, light as petals.


There is a ringing in the air as you reach

to tear down the rafters: brown fingers, red wood.


Deep in the heart of your mouth there is an egg

: and it is popping, and it is popping: you reach in

to pull it out with your fingertips


against the skeletal light drifting through the barn

there is a silence and your fingers move listlessly


What animal sang out, one swift sharp sweet note

through the morning, into your palm, freezing your hand,

fingers open & flung out like a flower


And the barn that is red, and your mans hands

and autumn erupting against the walls: you will tear at nothing

with your fingers


nothing but silence falls around us

you trail your fingers through the dust, leaving strokes, leaving.