sIX FINGERs a love story He was born with six fingers on each hand scalpel applied in a secret room Precision clean cut no trace Only a few knew Cautioned not to reproduce He was fine with that A captain of industry A hellion A brute An unrepentant supply of evil A success Five remaining fingers On each hand Vice grips on all there was to have They named him man of the year In his private garden Of forever green grass And the blue eye sky He prospered She was born with six fingers on each hand They tied them off with dirty string let them fall back into origin Scars of protruding keloid Are even darker than her total gold Everyone knew Everyone whispered She was a hellion A brute An unrepentant supply of evil A bad mother A failed woman They named her witch Assigned designations without power to change Five remaining fingers on each hand barley clinging to that thirsty branch Of the diseased tree She struggled They came upon each other one day. It was a chance meeting, another arrangement of the universe. After all, their worlds were separated, divergent, inequivalent yet equally actual. She was weary yet determined, walking slowly, the sidewalk seeming to grab at her steps as if to stop her progress. This was nothing new. Everything in life seemed to do that to her. Yet she continued. He was on the same sidewalk, head in the air, walking briskly. Too briskly to notice the woman he was heading toward. And then they collided. He was beyond angry that she had interfered with his forward progress. No one had even done that before. No one. He instinctively pushed her to the ground. That was his nature. She knew she had to protect herself. She knew immediately she was on her own. If she had to fight, that was what she would do. He would not be the first she had to battle. He would not be the last she would best. She lay there looking up at him, one of her hands shielding her eyes from his blue glare. And that is when he saw the scar on her hand. He immediately knew what it was and what it meant. He reached down to help her up. She wondered why and did not trust. Jarring clarity took him to his knees. He took her hand and ran his fingers across the scar. She embraced the bond of blue sky and golden sun. They knew their real names. Holding hands and rising together to their feet, Now beyond circumstance Strength and Hope walked on.
Copyright © Sheryl J. Bize-Boutte 2021