fingers joints: endangered
by Farah Ghafoor
here are my fingers. they are small dynasties, skeleton keys, passed down through families not their own. they say pay them pay him any exterminator get out get out get out. but once you snag them in the car door they won’t make a sound, don’t worry, they know how to bury flesh. especially their own. this is their sixth life, so they know the routine, how to get the blood out of the carpet, the nice curtains. they memorize the faces of girls who look like boys and boy who look like girls like scriptures, who are all very quick and quiet, young and restless. fingers called peacemongers, pacing and twitching because they don’t know how to fight, can’t put themselves together well enough to take other things apart. they stress out about their bad habits, picking at scabby nails, thin-skinned thin-souled thin-winged cuticles. my fingers are very soft. but they are also very hard now, just bone probably worn down from constantly wanting more.