Hands of mine
one dog bite scar cuts over a vein,
raised,
running to my fingers, or back again.
fingers whose joints flex too far the wrong way--
years of basketball left its mark.
the mark of a tomboy--
chewed nails without any polish or shine,
just one more part of me left abandoned to time.
Inspired by a post by Ghost
raised,
running to my fingers, or back again.
fingers whose joints flex too far the wrong way--
years of basketball left its mark.
the mark of a tomboy--
chewed nails without any polish or shine,
just one more part of me left abandoned to time.
Inspired by a post by Ghost
posted by Krista at 1:59 PM
2 Comments:
i love this. simple. beautiful. it makes me think of a stained glass window. it's that elegant.
Great description of your hands. I like that you linked Ghost's post; it adds a wider context to the poem.
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