Fingertips Nancy Pagh Poetry

local_library Fingertips

by Nancy Pagh

Published in Issue No. 215 ~ April, 2015

The locust references its leaves through shoji screen.

Along slick banks of morning mind

the obsession with dying. The dead, I think.

A dream I leave dripping, sunlight in my hair.

Yesterday I left a city. Its subways

moved like mice through snakes.

One season pulls away a little, which makes us ache.

I could learn to catch its fingertips.

Look the dark lake in its eye. Touch the wild

yellow iris caught in its lashes.


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Nancy Pagh burst on to the literary scene as a teenager, publishing her first poem, “Is a Clam Clammy, Or Is It Just Wet?” in a local boating magazine. She teaches at Western Washington University. More at