I cut my toenail too short
and now I feel it
or rather its absence
most every moment.

My ghost toenail cries to me,
saying, “Hey. Hey, Berger!
Lick me!”
Thinking he sounds just a tad obscene,
I pay as little attention as I can.
“You can hear me, Berger Boy. Lick me!”

Tentatively, I lift my finger to my face
and lick my fingernail.
“Good job, boy. Now… put the finger in your mouth
and suck on it like a good boy.”
Too much.
I pocket my right hand, where the ghost nail resides
– but that only irritates the absent nail.
“OOF!” it says, and I quickly bring it to my lips.
“Oh, yeah…” It purrs.

This is getting out of hand.
“Now stroke it, Berger. There you go. You got that clipper around still?”

I really don’t want to know what’s going to happen next.