Monday, January 23, 2012

When Last I Saw My Toenail (A Poem)

All subjects are topical fodder.

When last I saw my toenail
Curled in cuticle bliss
It never occurred to this footlord
That life should come to this.

Smiling, bald and content
At the extremity of the piggy at home
Estranged from familial relations
An adolescent longing to roam.

Keratin remnant pale from shearing
     Where is remorse for its pruning?
     No grieving of reclusive lunar sliver
On La Quinta room floor brooding.

Have mercy on dorsal adornment
In jagged, refused state
Abandoned and searching the tangent
Of significance in world’s trampled space.

How we recoil at the spectre
Of bodily rejection in view
Disgusted by original origin
Pretending this is somehow new.

Some poems should never be written,
Thoughts desiring fields of light
But to the toenail I say
The grass is never greener on the other side.

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