The Finger
I am a finger pointing at the Moon
among my own kind. I scratch the head,
I wag at naughty kids, perhaps, in June
they’ll put a ring on one of us instead
of just being friends, I’m always stained with ink,
once I’ve been bitten by a mad raccoon,
I pick the nose, but more important thing
is that the finger points at the Moon.
Copyright © Kurt Ravidas | Year Posted 2019
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