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POEM: fingers

fingers

the way they curve softly around the mouse
how they float over the keyboard
like the stalks of pond lilies in a breeze

three bands of silver woven into a ring
on the middle finger of her right hand
glimmering in the constant fluorescence

her nails are the color of coffee with cream
and despite her years on the farm, her fingers
are gentle, unmarked by hardship

hers are fingers meant to encircle a face
to trace the sensitive skin of an inner arm
to entwine in the fingers of her lover

11 October 2013
Oak Street

Published in My poems Poem-A-Day 2013 Poetry

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