Tonight's Poet Corner: Forked Fingers
Forked Fingers by Belinda Roddie You always had to clarify your true intentions with Cajun sarcasm laced with paprika. "Just kidding!" or "quote-unquote" gestures with knuckles poised in white and red streaks, while you sipped from a styrofoam chalice. I studied microbes under a scrutinizing eye and there you were, sitting in my science lab, cracking jokes about the teacher, and when he saw the arched eyebrow I knew he couldn't get angry at you. But it made it so damn difficult when you said "I miss talking to you" or left me a text message without the pasty emoticon guiding me by the porcelain hand to the real meaning of your stale condiment vocabulary.