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Disjointed
Fingers speaking,
drawn across the mouth as a muzzle.
The tall one dictates tyranny as the ring finger brags of corruption while
the pinky pouts in submission and the thumb howls
of fatness
from the time it was broken
and never healed.
I draw their characteristics across each other
and fold them against one another
in their ineffectiveness.
If they were to trace my body
with the finest felt-tipped pen
the line would be
neither straight
nor gentle,
but broken
by the jutting of fragmented joints
and hampered,
ineffectual,
movements.
When asked,
I pretend my spine is crooked from the time
Atlas accidentally dropped
the world on my back, but
I really have nothing to blame
but my neck
which craned too often and then hung too deeply
in unfulfilled expectation
I draw my fingers
like a muzzle
fitted for the pupils,
across my eyes
to prevent them from settling comfortably
on my
feet
-By Laura Paler
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