Long Fingers, Little Art

Charcoal, and paints,

little rust stains and powders

grace the two remaining fingers,

and trace patterns.

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Little swirling motions beneath

give life to the lifeless

bone, and the smiling

skull looks lively.

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No light about, just the

fire, and on, dipping into

bent cans of this and that

go frozen, burned fingers.

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A swirl, a shape, all in the

mind it lines up

with the beauty that

nature has made.

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Humming softly, now,

and taking a bit more pigment,

making a small dash

or a little line across.

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And now the finish:

from somewhere, the top

to an old glass bottle is produced,

and stamped in.

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The little woman steps back,

admires her work, and, quietly,

uses the hand with all five

to mount it with the others.