Stubby Fingers

It isn't that they've never had a manicure,
but to be sure, the paint and caulk attached
to skin on fingers at this time
do not exactly scream "refined."
They've even had acrylics glued to tips,
more in keeping with the parts
that I was cast to play,
more glamorous than short and sometimes
bitten nails I almost always to the world display.
They've held onto parents' shirttails, stirred
countless spoons, grasped fishing rods and flutes,
held swings and onto monkey bars,
babies, Barbies, brushes and combs, concrete
jitterbug, hammer, spoons, microphones.
They've given claps and slaps, caresses,
spankings, tickles, shot a bird or two,
shaved, held a cigar and gallons upon gallons
of sweet tea. They've played piano, painted
walls and pictures, written notes on board,
texted, typed, thumb's-upped across
a room. They've aged all of their years,
no question they belong to someone 55
and could pass for someone older.
But they have a lot of love to give, backs
to rub, meals to fix, pictures to hang,
poems to write, but first, they really need a scrub.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013