On the left hand –

hand of the moon,

the feminine, the emotions,

& the hidden;

On the ring finger –

finger of the heart line,

of creativity, beauty,

& love;

The nail here –

     of this hand & this finger –

has grown

to extraordinary length,

& when touched,

tilts –

     painlessly –

from its bed, removed.

Inspect, at eye level,

this two-and-a-half-inch

semi-circular keratin shaft;

Inspect the convex,

empty bed;

Realize –

astonished –

each, with soft gray lint,

is filled.

Reseat the nail –

     carefully –

refit it to its powdery,

dust-gray base;

With the right hand,

gingerly place & press it,

thus;

Held now –

     nail of the left finger,

     of the left hand –

to its original place

(a temporary fix,

at best).

— C.Birde, 10/21

Confinement

cast in barren walls;

smooth-polished floors

of wood

A spartan space

Devoid of comfort,

coloration,

but for a single blue-gray

drape that stirs –

alive with motion –

draws attention

to stretched-wide

sliding doors of glass

Step through…

(bare feet exposed

to metallic bite

of the threshold’s sill…)

& pass without…

A cloistered deck awaits….

(O, secondary ruse…)

Gaze up, neck craned…

Witness to impossibility,

to the unprecedented –

A looming verticality

of storm-gray water…

A towering sea-wall

barricade that sways & ripples,

looms & eddies,

a-swim in motion overhead…

Extend a hand…

trace white curls & lines

of foam…

touch small leaves of ochre

caught in spiral currents,

& recognize…

(with sudden indrawn breath)

the trap’s new-altered

height & width & length.

Although recast, reshaped,

confinement yet

     remains.

— C.Birde, 10/21