note to self II

na.

dear self,

 

     though i have written to you

before regarding the stretching of

your arm so far, wide & high up

in the air, that the ceiling fan chops

at me (fingers on your right hand),

this time i’m writing on behalf of

your left hand, whose hairs that line

the wrist were savagely singed only

a few minutes ago, when your stupid

a*s reached too lowly over a burning

candle to get something.  please

remember the smell of the burning

hair (akin to burnt popcorn) & think

about how lucky you were, idiot,

to burn only the hair & not your skin.

 

sincerely,

 

the fingers on your right hand

Reviews

[Alexander Emberson]

I guess we're all a bit careless sometimes. I dunno what I'd do without my fingers.