Sunday, February 6, 2011

Day 5.

In the next room there is glass breaking
There is a horn blaring outside my window
And a fluorescent light above me
There is speckled carpet and tan shoes
There is a letter on my desk and a letter in reply
There is a book and another book and a card stamped with my name
And a trail of coins leading to an alarm clock
And when does a finger become a finger again?
When it isn’t purple anymore?
When the fingernail falls off?
When the surface of the nail is growing back smooth and pink?
And even I can’t tell that something dark and blue crept up beneath it
The night after the day I crushed it in the door.

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