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Stowaway
November 30, 2014
Sometimes I'll use my pencil to pick at
the dirt beneath my finger nails,
even though I cannot recall a time
I've gone digging. It's probably made up
of the dust of old souls trying to find
an entryway into this body.
When will they learn that the hands
are not the key to the heart,
the nose and mouth and eyes are?
Anyplace really, besides the skin
under the nails, unless they plan
to hitch a ride with food eaten
without using a fork.
© Whitney S., Norwell, MA
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