When Last I Saw My Toenail (A Poem)

All subjects are topical fodder.
1/23/12

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.