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Finger
Attempting, not for the first time
To peel the paper away and open it up
I cut the top off and felt a dim pride
Radiate from my fingers
But in putting it away
I didn’t know how close
The cold metal was to my hand
And it sliced through my finger
And I bled and swore
And called out her name
But she didn’t hear me, she was asleep
And my finger was blue and red
And the pride was gone
The blood dripping onto the hard marble
Was warm against my cold hand
Sliding down under my fingernail
And I saw her, asleep
She couldn’t hear me calling her name
And after a while when I could better stand the pain
I decided not to bother anymore.
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"The optomist proclaims we live in the best of worlds, and the pessimist fears this is true." - James Branch Cabell