Poetry challenge from KC: Toenails

Out of stubbornness she refuses to go buy her 400th set of nail clippers. It’ll turn up, it’ll turn up, but our toes, girl! I’ll find it, I’ll find it just go buy another nail clippers! fuck that. The time goes on until she’s

Sliced and diced

Sock-holes

Ankles

Toe-tips tilled by their own stumps

Her untrimmed keratin weeds grow past the branches of her feet and become rotten

Putrid blades

Perfect spatula for scraping fungi butter onto cheesy breadskin