Fingers

[Jerrybaldy]

You are on my fingers
And in my head
And you're wearing a wolly hat
In the park beneath leafless limbs
On tarmac smooth
For silent skateboards
With smudges of dead leaves
You are in my head like wet Sunday
Afternoons
And black holes devouring all
In my head beneath the bath water
In the hum in my ears
In soft towels
And raised hives on skin
In the hot water bottle warmth
In the desparation of night
You are on my fingers.

[Spiros Zafiris]

..hello Jerrybaldy.>I like it..mostly, I like how you start and end with same line..the only
thing is that because you deal, almost entirely, with the person of poem being in your head,
why mention fingers?..my suggestion would be to make it something like 'pores' instead of 'fingers'..you'd
have to change the title to 'Pores' or 'In My Mind', should you do that..'pores' is more
all-inclusive than 'fingers'..thanks.>sp