One day I woke up, and my fingers were ice cold.

And yes, it happened just overnight.

I tried to scratch away the freeze, but my passion had grown old.

I laughed a little, even though I knew not to make the situation light,

But it took me a whole half hour to come to grips with my ice cold frozen icicle grip.

–

I’ve seen peoples’ fingers claw up before.

Mostly during yawns or when curling into a fist,

But like the fist stopped halfway, resembling beasts from Anglo-Saxon lore.

When monsters got jealous of faeries who fell in love from a hero having wished.

But my claw wasn’t my idea, and I sure as hell am not jealous of anyone.

–

So I ran it under warm water.

Specially careful not to get it too hot,

But idly, I forgot to stop it and it got hotter,

And it was too late to stop the flow because my hands were claws and ice cold

And couldn’t grip the faucet.