Last night, you dreamt that seven of your ten well-tended fingernails had fallen out. Completely. Painlessly, for you no longer have the capacity to experience your own hurt. The soft tissues shiny without protection, yet soon to dry with exposure to air. Come morning, after checking your hands in the sunlight pouring through the slats of the bedroom blinds, you claw the tattered Dream Bible from the shelf, flipping through the pages until you come upon the appropriate entry. And swear you will never let this happen again.

parlor game
a four-letter word
for goodbye

Kelly Sauvage Angel