Pick a Color

Wednesday, March 25, 2020 - 6:49pm

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i painstakingly paint my nails every week last 

week it was bubblegum blue. from up close

 

they must look so trite and clumsy. i need to stop

biting them, but blood from my fingertips

 

tastes sweeter than from anywhere else. 

i know this, i don’t know why. sometimes

 

i like to pretend i am folding in on myself i am

jealous of origami swans and the way they know

 

how to bend in all the right places i am jealous

of their fragility my body is all too big, too sturdy

 

to bend it is all points and hard edges in places

not conducive for swan-ness i don’t know how to 

 

unfold them. i keep dreaming of myself pulling out 

my nails one by one to sell for                something

 

i can never remember what i don’t think i should’ve been 

given a body shouldn’t have been trusted with this one 

 

bodies are made for worship and i can only hear 

God’s voice at the bottom of my own desperation     

 

my mother says why do you insist on ruining these 

hands that God gave you? well, these hands came 

 

with a lot of strings attached is it not obvious i am 

trying to sever them. i am willing to make a trade,

however, i want a small metamorphosis. after all, 

this thing that God loves most? i am willing to 

give it back that is worth at least becoming a house cat

or a raccoon. my nails are bright red and it is not enough 

 

to stop me from tearing into myself. my mouth is rattling 

against its cage like an animal awaiting slaughter