Fall 2020 | Occasus | Issue 10
My Left Pinky
Good for hand-clasping
table-resting drawing cold smiles on car windows eye-liner smudging when right pinkies are occupied. Wiping the second tear.
My left pinky's polish chips last.
Little digit clenches at a sharp gust. Unchipped-polish finger folds into itself under the careful guard of left thumb. Fits tightly into a borrowed left glove, fills out the corner of left jacket pocket, sidles up to ring finger. Never married.
Collects denim lint under uncut pinky nail. Always picked last. Sometimes found up my nose.
Fills out the corner of left nostril scrapes gunk from left nostril hairs. Sometimes right.
"One day our pinkies 're gonna be
useless" you quip. I stare at my left pinky hidden in my lap. Yours does skateboard tricks on greasy café tables. Hers points up at finger food during high tea. His conducts jazz orchestra wipes chocolate from lip corners smudges tiny trees on tiny torn pages. My left pinky goes numb after pressing too tightly into my left palm. My left pinky counts
how many pins will be followed by needles. |
So far, nine.
Mine traces keyboards at eight PM waiting for a sign to shift. Mine taps weakly on a Q key easily on a W or Z.
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Li-elle Rapaport is a third year student completing an Honours Specialization in Psychology. She manifests her passion for story-telling through writing and painting.
