contemplations

contemplations

By Nora Glass

I decide to grow my fingernails 

The white part like a blanket over sky 

I woke and thought it’d be nice not to die.

They break and buckle, thick like great white whales. A

jack rabbit flickers in my sight, flails 

Swift and furry, brown like crust of pie. 

I watch his motions as he wanders by. 

And happily meanders quiet trails. 

I walk around my yard, avoiding shit. 

And kick up autumn flurries out of spite.

When I touch my nails, it hurts a bit 

I wonder if the squirrels in these parts bite.

On the ground falls blood from my lip, split.

I smile, look up at the sky, milk white. 

I’m glad to be here, hurting like a dog. 

I’ll take this quiet, happy epilogue.