UGLY FINGERS

If my nail plate has a white patch
Then I will be distinct
So I called to the birds
To plant it’s kiss on my fingers

This fingers that look like yours
Woven by your gene and blood
Like a spinning on a kente
String after string

But this fingers disgust you
They are a little bit not you
The bottle is where you think I belong
So I ‘d be tossed in the resting beach

Perhaps to be washed with saline water
Soaked in for a supernatural cleansing
Blow-dried by the sea breeze
But I don’t give in; No I never give in.