dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: fingers

there’s a disease in the trees
an evergreen tumbleweed

like a wart
on thin fingers

dark dream catcher 
of the breeze


We grew parallel
Like fingernails
On the hands of a stranger
From our hometown.

Painted or bitten
On whims,
Scraped across skin

Years have added
No strength or scars,
The future is far
From changing us.

We keep sliding on the soft underside

Of the bar of soap,


No grimy fingers

Will press us 

Further in,

Already held by a sudsy glue,

We knew

We wanted clean hands,

But we’re not purified,

Just coated with white film,

Growing unnoticed beneath

A thick tombstone.

Brightly colored streamers

Sprout like chia hair

From your nodding head.

They whip in the wind

Of nearby boring conversations,

Stubbornly hanging in place

Like a birthday piñata.

Stories shoot like silly string

From our painted fingernails

As we grip the dinner table.

My hand gestures

Catch each colored strand

While short confetti giggles

Burst sporadically out of our

Wide suppertime smiles.

Her dirty,

Jagged fingernails

Reach down to scratch

Swollen chigger bites

That pulse and scream

Like ambulance sirens

On her little white legs.

She’d donned her brightest sundress

To dance in the wheat field

Just like the women

She’d seen smiling

On television commercials.

Blood trickles as she scrapes

The irritation and the shame,

But her teeth,


Shine between two tiny rosy lips

For now she knows she is


Human limitations

Yank my scalp,


Tug until each twisted thought

Is painfully undone,

High expectations

Grip their nervous fingers

Around  long mental strands,

Weaving them

Into a tightly braided


Her latest,

Fondest wish

Has fallen into

Life’s chubby,

Childish fingers that


On dangling dreams

Like sparkling earrings,


Hope’s soft, furry tail

When it bounces past, and


The most solid, inborn desires

Until a pair of larger hands

Bring silence

And peace.