A metallic clip, snip, release
and the fingernail clippings fall
one by one, bit by bit,
in a sporadic rhythm, downward spiral,
to land with a soft rustle
against the plastic of the garbage bag.

Falling through the air softly,
like snowflakes,
but they are just dead cells -
expendable,
disposable.

A wicked grin.

Besides, he said he was tired
of the red trails down his back.

05/22/2005

Author's Note: Topic from Joe Chiles. Heh. A long time coming, but I had fun with this one. :)

Posted on 05/23/2005
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