Poetry Day 7: Fingers, Prose Poetry, Assonance
Stately fingers! There are days when I deem you fat and lazy; days when your ways are elegantly long and slender. I lay you across plastic numbers and letters; your favorites are A and eight. Music sways while you drum to the beat of Keith, Adele, Journey and Jason.
Gracious fingers! There are days when I curse the tendons within and wonder how you got this way; days when I’m glad for opposable thumbs and the digital neighbors that grasp the coffee mug. I make you write forget-me-nots on post-its and items on this day’s grocery list. The weight of my thoughts give way to cursive action.
Fated fingers! There are days when you are an angry ass, a trusty crusader, the bane of arthritic age, and the glory of warmth in touch. Feel for me, beige pointers, feel the way through an animal’s fur, a lover’s flesh, dark chocolate melting at your tips.
Celebrated fingers! There are days when I take you for granted, a slave to my incessant demands; days when your dexterity is fluid and faithful and duly noted. I thank you with favored heart for your loyal attachment to me. Without your dangling from two hands, days would be void of planting daisies or pouring fermented grapes or grasping an umbrella’s dance in the rain.