The
soul resides in our nails,
the ancients said.
I wait until mine are too
long,
then clip, file and toss
the clippings in the
compost.
My nails are thick and
strong,
perfect for scratching
til it
bleeds
or using as a screwdriver.
Pink and smooth
with white moons,
they are brothers
to claws and hooves.
These parts trimmed and
filed off will come back
in sweet peas and
tangerines.
Like the ancients, I know
when finally I let go
of this flesh,
my nails
will keep on
growing.
Len
Anderson