every day’s a new mystery
there’s blood under her fingernails
and she’s not sure how it got there
not like it’s something she forgot
a detailed few seconds
in a scrap of a night that was
blown away in fists
there is no discernible cause
no precipitation for the maroon crust
drying and flaking under her
ragged and chipped nails
she strains her mind for
something resembling a reason
some kind of narrative that will
bring her to the satisfying conclusion
of why
but all she can think of is how
this is not right
she pulls the blanket over her head
tomorrow she’ll deal with this
as the midnight begins to claim her
she wonders if there’s an
extra toothbrush in the bathroom
About the Author: James Benger has written a bunch of stuff. Some of it has even been published in print and on the interwebs. He is the resident slacker on the Board of Directors of the Writers Place, and is the most truant member of the Riverfront Readings Committee. He is also the admin of an online poetry workshop called 365 Poems in 365 Days, which has produced five anthologies and counting. He lives in Kansas City with his wife and children.
Image Credit: David Humbert de Superville “Right hand with fingers spread” Public domain image courtesy of Artvee
As It Ought To Be 