in between fingers 

in about three days
all my nail polish comes off 
in flecks
a pollen scattering
or gust small strawberry seeds 
i'm thinking about all the places 
i've left these chips of gold nail paint 
if they might grow something 
in my absence
sliver of pigment
crinkles of color
buried in a sofa 
or square of speckled carpet
a small tree growing
in the shape of a hand
taking root
waving & asking 
to grab onto someone else
asking for a bracelet 
or ring to wear 
a small hand in the shape
of a tree
i remember the bonsai 
i had for a few weeks
as a kid
how somehow it bloomed 
sticky yellow pollen
how that pollen 
made flowers bud & burst 
all over my face 
how i picked the flowers
in the mirror & tossed
them in the trash
how i wove my fingers 
into the braided trunk 
of the bonsai 
as a kind of handshake
or hand holding
all my many hands 
now growing all over
scattered by my nail polish
i close i eyes &
try to move all the dozens
of fingers
imagine one in a small pot
like the bonsai
& maybe my bonsai tree
grew from someone else's 
chipped nail polish
& they felt me 
press my hand around there's 
i hope i spread pollen
& the flowers rupture 
from the floor
& the walls &
in between fingers