literature

Fingers

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Literature Text

Two-inch long extension cords
With universes between them.
And they are young,
But they've tapped age,
Scraped weariness,
Slid their tongues across antiquity
With an ease my heart –
And my eyes –
Have always envied.

They are
The reaped and the rare.
I varnish them in paint and metal,
My swans draped in tar,
So that they dance
In beautiful despair.

Yet
Between the stretches of scar tissue
And frequent scabs
Come notes of music,
Gestures of humility,
Actions of grace;
A rising concerto of self-preservation.
My motley crew.
My winsome folk.
I do believe you are the heroes
At the journey's end.
Written for the same class in which I composed "I Am A Tree". I'm a very competitive person, honestly, but I will say that taking a poetry class with several amazingly talented students is a great motivator for improving upon your own work.

This assignment was to write about a body part. People like to write about hands. I feel like the fingers are the swords and the palm is the shield.

It sounds weird, I know. :D
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Comments26
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tilwen's avatar
:) another beauty! doesn't sound wierd at all - it sounds perfectly logical and lovely.