The Stench of My Middle Finger

All day my middle finger does a job

Keep a hole open while my colleague extracts valuables

When the job is done and I remove my middle finger I know the next six months will be stained by a stench which sticks with me tirelessly

The job pays me three months worth of labour and I come back every time because I have to

The doctor said I run the risk of passing this horrendous smell onto my unborn child

I haven’t told my partner

We already have a two year old daughter and she’s developed an allergy to my middle finger; so has my grandmother — who looks after my daughter during the dreaded months

I’ve been saving up and hopefully sooner than later I’ll be able to find a way to use all of this money to stop the smell

***

The hospital had to be cleared after the arrival of my first son

My partner and I haven’t stopped shedding tears

We sit on the other side of the plastic room

His little body oozing that all too familiar odour

But, ten times stronger, an entire ward is Under quarantine

I’ll need to work more shifts

Something I’ve never done before having feared what it would do to my middle finger but for my child I’ll do anything

So stressed my sense of smell has gone anyway

Maybe they’ll find a cure
Or is it remedy
I don’t know

Got to keep on. What other alternative is there any way?

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Kaffeesahne

You want me to be superhuman

-i never said

The way you look at me, the way your face turns when I do something human

-you’re imagining things

I blow my nose and you tense up, you see the contents of my drawer and you act like some juvenile from the movies. This is real life and I’m a human being same as you

-yea well…

Don’t ‘never mind’ me. Are we two grown-ups in this relationship or is this a movie with cameras and no end to your imagined action?

-i don’t think I can do this

And most things too. Enjoy your starring role.

A coin dropped in The packed Kraft Café and everybody continued where they left off when he walked out the door.
She swiped her newspaper and put on her reading glasses, sipping on some coco-Kaffeesahne

Rigid Hand To Crooked Heart

Loved myself once.
Now lines have taken over my face.
The, rotting away of time, almost tangible.
I can’t stand to be around any youth with their enthusiasm and their ignorance of what’s to come.
I know too well; sometimes I wake up and I smell it.
Strong stench of fate; its ebony hand reaching out, stroking my hollow cheek.
Was in love with myself. Didn’t do me any good.

There’s Only Girls In The Family

The lady selling blankets was a mystery to us all.

My betting Cousin said she looked older than our grandmother.
I said grandma was the oldest person in the world.
She said “not anymore, that lady has sixty-years over grandma.”

The lady cycled into town dragging big bags of blankets.
Singing hymns from what seemed like a foreign, dreamy era.

“Have you seen her blankets? Handmade, but amateurish.” Babbled Cousin.

I just shook my head. “I’m going to buy one..”
“My ma says she should be ignored until she disappears.”

“Your ma would!” I power walked to the lady, annoyed.

Cousin shouted “you’ll wake her up then we’ll be ghosts!”