My Fingers

by Dianne Bates

 

My fingers

are going on an adventure

What fun

Exploring the world

Poking, prodding, whirling

Running

along a rough ridge

of timber freshly sawed –

watch those spikes!

Poking in a pudding

spongy soft with a skin

of smooth creamy custard,

raspy and rough

Holding hands with a friend

her fat, sticky fingers

kissing mine

Sliding a finger along

a prickly strip of string

then a scrap of paper

lying flat and dry

nothing but words

that send love

list groceries

start wars

 

Exploring the ridged

wet craters of inside my mouth,

Next the damp stubble

of a nostril

Disgusting, says Mum

wash those hands!

The drowning sensation

of tepid water

the satiny surface of soap

the fuzzy tickle

of suds, tiny rising balloons

that wink, and in the

blink of an eye

snap!

Vanish

just like that,

Fingers explore the furriness

of towel…

 

• Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #4

Dianne says: I brain-stormed the topic before realising that the best way of
describing textures was to have a finger or fingers feeling them, hence this
finger exploring some things in a child’s world.