my nails

 my black nails scratch a chalkboard to get

your attention, a Halloween boardroom, I am a 

gargoyle in a pantsuit.

my black nails whisper “yes you can”  as I push a strand

of box-dyed bangs behind my ear, and turn

to walk away from Men who said I couldn’t, or I could,

but I shouldn’t.

my black nails ruffle your hair, and wipe the schmutz

off your face,

graze your lips,

feel their softness,

and slowly chip away.