~APRIL LINDNER~

HER HANDS

---

Like claws, the knotty tendons

rising through slack skin.  Each nail
honed and painted pink.

That red mole on the coast
between forefinger and thumb.

Heavy rings on fingers
that would squeeze a nutcracker,
eke out the last trace of meat,

or grip the arms of visitors
as she begged them not to leave,

fingers like talons
clinging to a shaken branch,

and yet the flesh
unthinkably soft
like spiderweb or campfire ash—

barely there to the touch.

 
 

© by April Lindner