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letra de fingers - myra davies

four fingers lying on a white linen cloth
they looked out of place, i stared at them
wondering ‘what were they doing there?’
they were fat, sort of stubby and quite pink
i didn’t recognize them
so they couldn’t be his
i wouldn’t have forgotten fingers like that
so out of agreement with the rest of him
but there they were

the fingers lay in plain view on the white linen
i couldn’t see the rеst of the hand
one would have to assumе it was there
concealed below the table edge
one would also have to assume the unseen hand was connected to an arm
presumably occupying the sleeve of his suit jacket
well, it was something occupying the sleeve
i assumed it was an arm

but even with all these assumptions
i was still having trouble with the fingers
a matched set of four lying slightly splayed on the linen
i panned from the fingers to the sleeve from the sleeve to the shoulder
from the shoulder over to the collar
nothing strange about the neck
the neck supported a head that looked, for all intents and purposes
just like his head
it was wearing his face
i knew that face, too well
i had to dismiss the argument that the fingers belonged to somebody else
but one thing kept nagging at me
if they’re his, then those fingers have been all over me
and i don’t even know them
that didn’t feel right
i didn’t like it
and i still didn’t recognise them
the big question was why?
and the facts pointed to one conclusion
i’d never noticed them
you see i thought i knew so much
but i guess i just assumed
i guess i assumed a lot in those days
funny how that happens

i looked back at the fingers
they hadn’t moved
they lay on the starched white linen like four fresh fish on ice
pink, plump, and slightly splayed
and i thought to myself
‘my god, those are his fingers’
and seeing them now as his
i thought them touching
beautiful even
but it was a little late, for that

- myra davies

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