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Cut-Nails and Cantaloupe

by Michael Anthony

The day we met I made a necklace
from the first cut- nail I pulled from your hardwood floor.
I wore it to remind me how painful life was,
before you.
Now I have to go back and that necklace is waiting
over four stubborn impressions
in our bedroom rug.
There’s a spent book of matches in place of the couch,
green fruit in a warm coffin drawer,
and a lint tumbleweed clinging to one brown sock
near a soap ring on the pantry floor.
Yesterday, I urged the pan- head out to the lake.
Behind dark glasses and loud exhaust pipes
I found some tears.
Today, that’s the whole of it; Tears and a rusted cut –nail.
I resent that nail for the new painful reminder,
but I have a decision to make:
Return the favor (and a measure of justice) and leave it here hanging’
on a nail of its own, or welcome it home,
drive it deep to the only place you still exist.
It’s weird though;
in this, what remains of a life and place, it feels like
an old friend and I’m thinking,
“what’s a little crucifixion between friends.”


Posted on 02/27/2007
Copyright © 2022 Michael Anthony

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Genevieve Sturrock on 02/27/07 at 03:46 AM

"Today, thats the whole of it; Tears and a rusted cut nail." - i am feelin' your pain, man.

Posted by Harold Millican on 03/19/08 at 02:21 AM

This poem reminds me of my favorite singer, Rufus Wainwright, the sentiment expressed is so naked, and that's what makes it so beautiful.

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