My Hands

My hands are with the earth
there is dirt caked under each fingernail
like childhood mudpies
or a trailing pothos

My callouses peel as a moon phase
first, they are full
like the fractals of my first notes
then they are silent
a rest

My fingers are rimmed with blue
from far too cheap rings
from the pop-open feel from 25 cents
like me running my hands over the material
makes it all worth it
 

Anna Tringale

NC

17 years old

More by Anna Tringale

  • What If She Said

    And what if I asked her the question?
    What if I asked the thing that plagued the mind
    If I coughed out the sentence that would kill her
    And it engulfed her with a pain sharp as a scalpel
    And she laughed until stitches sewed her mouth
  • Alicia Keys

    At night it crusts my eyes
    She breaths out tendrils that snake in and seek out
    For.a year and a half it burned in the third degree
    Her name means "inferno" and yet still
    She riddles my heart with soot