- Thumb
Thumb
If I were God, I would bite off all the babies' thumbs.
Like gherkins, while still coy as a paperclipin the desk of creation. Not yet a tool with more wham
than a hammer. So many luckless rabbits, neck-split,under the thumb of pie-baking English.
So many flip-top grenades run-riot under Americanthumbs. No pencils, no hitch-hiking drama
or gladiatorial decrees, but hands to be heldif not grasped. You can suck a toe or a tooth-whittled
hump of hand—rewritten just like rib-short Adam.No space bars to tap. No Matthew, Mark, Luke or John
to plumb. Or thumb drives—except for God's angelson epicurean missions. But as a rule of thumb, ugly
even with rings, thumbs do come in handyfor pickle jars and trapeze bars.
Think of it though: no guns to cock, no nails to nail,no crosses to construct. [End Page 80]
Amy K Genova is a teacher and poet. She recently published a chapbook of prose poetry, Flavor Box: 7 Words Repurposed. Three poems appeared in the 2020 Ars Poetica show in Washington state. A memoir entitled, "Moving," appeared in Stonecrop Magazine. Poetry publications include 3Elements, Homestead Review, and others.