I watch her cut
her nails
thrice
in one day.
Upon asking her why,
“I don’t want
any words
caught under
my nails.”
is all she says.
Now she
has published
four books,
which is four more
than me,
and spends her time
pining for colder days
even though
she’d never be caught
out of a summer dress.
She doesn’t drink
either,
so when I ask her
how she writes,
she just pulls out
her nail clippers
and stares
while she
click
click
clicks
away.
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I really like this poem. It alludes to so much and has a gentle yet insistent flow.
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A quirky and prolific enigma, she is. Wonderful.
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Chris was correct, the ‘insistent’ flow (nicely put Chris!) is exactly what makes this stand out.
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Fuck. I’ve been doing it wrong. And wastes so much money on vodka …
This reads so well.
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Gin for me. But the idea is the same. Thank you for the kind words.
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