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.