Lost Pieces

kristina-bychkova-photography-black-white-hands-plant-dirt-holding

Nails are too long,

Can’t remember to cut them,

They capture everything I hold

Like the skin of orange peel

That never bleeds,

Rich black soil from the night

I tried to uproot something

I could not see,

Dust of a keyboard that never

Talks back,

Crumbs from

Empty cereal bags

As I search for whole pieces,

But only fragments are left

And I never know how to

Eat them.

These nails feel burdensome, clunky,

And I am preoccupied with removing

What is underneath.

Maybe I don’t want to see the bare skin,

Or I like saving the remnants of a day

In bare hands.

When I finally remember to

Cut them,

I worry these hands will look unfamiliar, and

that everything I touch

Will disappear

The moment I let go.

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12 thoughts on “Lost Pieces

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