Mani Cure
- Indigo Gabriel
- 21 hours ago
- 1 min read
Do you think the nails know
they’re being treated out of duty?
That every coat—
each wet brush stroke
is bought?
They only know
attention
is bestowed upon them.
Like souls
they do not know why
they’re injured
as they’re brought to almond
by a woman covered
in their white dust.
Whose neck is hurting—
whose finger is gnarled like a tree.
She never gets a new soul.
Poem and cover photo by Indigo Gabriel
