Written by Gabriella Troy
My fingernails are blue.
Blue blood circles sluggishly
through my tangle of veins,
rerouting and restarting and returning
to confusion because there’s no
GPS to my lungs. I think
I’m breathing because there’s a
rattling in my chest like a rabid
monkey aching to break free.
Or maybe I’ve been pretending,
and my nails know I’ve been
holding my breath too long.
I swim in the depths of the
ocean where it’s cold. I am always
cold and icicles have frozen around
my heart and I have forgotten
what it means to have fire. The sunlight
of the surface is only a shadow. No matter,
I am a superhuman being with blue nails,
a Monster that breathes underwater.
As I skim across the sands I am
immortal because my skin, it’s
weathered and worried and weary
of the feelings that suck at my blood
like a parasite. Monsters can have no feeling,
no misjudgment of character that
buries them six feet under.
I must have come from somewhere, once.
The seeds of numbness sprouting in my brain
and twining around my heart must have been
planted, must have been nourished by a kiss
of darkness. I must have been gifted my two
halves of Monster. Or maybe my blue nails
are a defect, a sign that I am special
in the wrong way. My skin can protect me
only from the outside, and my nails know
that I always cry from the inside.
I fear the blue Monster.
She lurches in my eyes and
sputters in my voice and
jolts in my fingers.
She is here, when
my fingernails turn blue.
She is here, for
we are friends and
my favorite color is blue.