I think of fingertips left behind on mirrors,
the smudges small and abandoned,
and what it was like to be a child.
How I thought my hands were so much
bigger than they were, as if my pinky was
strong enough to scoop out craters from the earth—
like fishing eyelashes from the innocent corners of my eyes.
But I am older now, perhaps even weaker than I was,
and my fingertips are smeared remnants
of my wasted potential—
a ghost of someone I once was,
a fossil of touch, temporarily preserved in my reflection. 

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Ray Kruger is a St. Louis based poet and writer, and has recently obtained his BA in English from Lindenwood University. His poetry and prose have been previously published in The Raven Review, The Lindenwood Review, and Arrow Rock Literary Journal.