awkwardly on the chair,
the light
placed
just so, so that i can see
what i'm
doing, i painfully twist
my foot closer
to trim the nails.
with tools and buffing stick
in hand,
i go to work,
like a welder in a factory.
dear lord, i'm turning
into tree bark,
or a tortoise shell,
it seems.
the callouses, the jagged
edges, hardened,
and now the blood
dripping to the floor.
No comments:
Post a Comment