Somehow I can't feel the slivers in

Somehow I can't feel the slivers in
my fingers
(thumb and index), but it looks to
be a dozen in there.
Maybe more.

There's no pain. They
never snag inside my Wisconsin gloves, sweaty
in this Maryland January.

These are the wrong gloves,

and these are the perfect slivers.
They are lined up like a naval fleet. On each splinter
thousands of sparkling Navy people stand
and sway
and sing
"Let's sail away to Singapore."

Obviously I recently recklessly grasped something splintery, something
that would be
light enough to lift too rough,
and took on these boarders.

It's a mystery. All I do all day is type.

Anyway, soon my body will force them
out and they'll be lost on my desk, then
brushed to the floor; gone.

Goodbye, slivers.
"Goodbye, Adam."