Neither bone nor skin nor food, <br />fingernails are tools we mouth, <br /> <br />deploy, and decorate. None <br />of us is ever so civilized— <br /> <br />whatever civilized means- <br />that we won’t, when <br /> <br />need be, start to claw, <br />scrape, dig—evolutionary <br /> <br />eons collapsing, leaving <br />residue of whole lost worlds <br /> <br />in our instinctual hands. Just <br />to scratch the scalp is such <br /> <br />a human gesture—and not; such <br />a basic lice-finding task—and not. <br /> <br />If your fingernails are soiled, they <br />file a report on your social status. <br /> <br />If they are manicured, they may <br />purr concerning leisure’s delicacy. If <br /> <br />bitten, they murmur of gnawing self- <br />doubt. If artificial—how fascinating. <br /> <br />I have heard that employees of alleged <br />civilized societies pull out fingernails <br /> <br />with pliers. This is torture: remember? <br />It is blood underneath human fingernails.<br /><br />Hans Ostrom<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fingernails-2/
