Soil beneath my fingernails
represents the flesh of the planet,
mimicking the appearance of a hungry child
devouring the flesh of a fresh pomegranate.
Oil underneath my splintered scales
disorients my ability to palm the granite -
as I trip over inanimate amulets
protruding with scandalous abandonment.
About the Creator
Kale Sinclair
Author | Poet | Husband | Dog Dad | Nerd
Find my published poetry, and short story books here!
Reader insights
Nice work
Very well written. Keep up the good work!
Top insights
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Keep reading
More stories from Kale Sinclair and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments (5)
I can smell freshly upturned soil; love the smell. I live on an old farm in Sweden and enjoy the surrounding nature with gratitude. Lovely tribute to our mother 🌍
Your words evoke a deep connection with nature and self-exploration, excellent poem, love it, thanks for sharing!
Excellent words
Brilliant KB. It's a nice one.
Such a gorgeous and intimate portrayal of gardening!