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poetry

PRUNING
by
Peter J. Grieco

I look down at my hands

and don't recognize them.

Ever since you started me clipping them,

my nails seem a little strange to me.

For all those years I'd always bitten them off.

I clip them close now, so they look like yours

but they grow fast,

while yours don't. Are we so unsuitable?

Is there nothing I can do to prune myself?

To grow something else?

To heal our rift?

Or change your mind?

Or should I forget you and

go back to biting?

Though there's one other thing I've noticed:

we both pick our noses.


Peter J. Grieco has taught literature in Ankara and Seoul, and now teaches writing at Buffalo State College. Publications include Swirling Voices: Considerations of Working-class Poetic Property, and Lyric Subject as Communal Fragment in the Works of Claude McKay. His poems have appeared in Harvard Review, Poetry Revolt, Court Green, HazMat and elsewhere. Performances of his original music have been published on YouTube.

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