RAPOETICS REPRINT: I, Clipping My by Taylor Napolsky

 

I, Clipping My

    fingernails felt a fragment of nail
fly into my eye.      A piece of me lodged
in me, I realized. “You are experienced,”
I thought,
flushing my
eye
in the sink.       “You have taken it on,”
and it bothered me for longer than
I cared to admit                     I set it aside
                      and made my rounds.
I laughed it off and wouldn’t be nebbish,
blinking for moisture? Or it was
confabulated and had already

extricated, on

its own accord–            I read

and grew; prepared to

watch a bit of logical media,

curious as   to   if    it     would make the
whites of my eyes
Pinkish.   Yet they’re always pink around
the rims (they’re consistently

me). I’m reliably drippy-looking

countenance and,
people sense, incorruptible with good
complexion. There’s my own scratch in
my head from the roots marginalia of my
person. Assuredly certain (certain thing)

and whether it’s

gone or

not

it stays there It’s immured.

 

Taylor Napolsky lives in Seattle, where he enjoys the cool weather and drinks plenty of coffee. He spends his time reading, writing, watching movies, and incessantly checking out new music. He has a speculative fiction book available at taylornapolsky.com.

Copyright © 2014 by Taylor Napolsky

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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