Finger-Nails

On good days, they grow
To preserve the goodness
A little more solidly, a little more visibly,
Inscribing the past we no longer have
At our fingertips.

On bad days, they press on
To expose the badness,
Enshrine it and offer as sacrifice
In a purging ritual,
The cutting of the unwanted.

On most days, they grow
Out of habit and boredom,
Marking meticulously
The parallel lives
Our bodies lead, precise and separate.