Failing Grip

The skin is so thin now,

almost like onion paper

over bone.

I watched her try to catch

that small pearl button,

her thumb and pointer

missing it

again, and again, like magnets

that won't quite stick.

The blue line of a vein

ran a river map

under the knuckle,

a bridge barely holding.

It just looked tired.

And she didn't swear, or sigh.

Just tried once more.