Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Tuesday Poem

Bad Thumb

This is the finger crushed

between doors, age six

before mass, offered up

to the god of no ice: thankless, squat, bruised.

The stub scrumbling in loam,

awkward flinger of carrot seeds,

a thousand to the ounce.

This is the pit end of the shovel,

digit no one claims

from the bin of lost appendages,

stump with the spatulate nail, ugly in polish,

begging for a blunt clip.

Never the soft lamb, the silky tip.

Sandpapered, abraded of tissue.

Whorl of a tornado, spiral

of no-good, a print-on-record.

This is the thumb that wouldn’t get a job.

The thumb that finally lowered the shade,

pulled the pin, cocked the hammer.

The thumb that raised itself

roadside, no apologies. Hopped

into a vagabond truck, vanished.


copyright 2007, T. Clear

originally appeared in Bayou


  1. This is a thrilling piece, T. I read it out loud twice. LOVE it!

  2. A triumphant poem, T. Clear. Tender, too.
    There are so many layers in here.
    L, C

  3. PS. T. Clear - would it be okay with you if we add a link to your blog from the new Tuesday Poem site? Would you mind dropping me a line re; this (on Icelines?) when you get a mo.? Thanks - L, C x

  4. Hi T - the links are up... Thanks!

  5. Bad thumb? Great poem! I love it. When do your 'Collected Works' appear?

    Bisou, Cro.

  6. I love this poem. It's left me smiling. Go thumb!

  7. As a fervent hitch-hiker in my youth, I applaud your thumb in all its opposable cock-a-snoot glory. Thanks for your Tuesday Poem, Premium T.

  8. Wonderful! I really love this one, too!!!!

  9. So glad you're doing Poem Tuesdays! I loved this poem when I first read it and I'm so glad to have the chance to read it again!