Poetry 27, 2014

Nail clipping
should not be
such a ritual.

I sit at my desk
and pore over my
fingers and nails,

looking for even
the slightest imperfection.
Inevitably, I find one:

an uneven free margin,
a hangnail,
an ugly cuticle.

I attempt removal, but,
because I am so determined
and thorough, that almost always

leads to pain and bleeding.
Without my body’s regenerative
qualities, I would

already have worried
off my fingertips

Prompt: Spend time with an object you feel connected to. Write a poem using the object to construct an extended metaphor. NaPoWriMo

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