Sixteen

[Richard]

Hello meadzbabby,
Welcome to the Pen! I give you points for bravery for posting on Intensive. My biggest complaint for this piece would be that it just doesn't make enough sense to me. I'll go into more detail below:

I had ten fingers, but I needed more. -I totally don't get this. This sounds like something a serial killer would say.
You see a window, I saw a door. -I like the possibilities of this line.
Neither opened, what a pane. -The possibilities of the previous line are ruined by the pun with "pane." I don't find it is in keeping with the tone of the rest of the poem.
So I tongued the glass until it wept. -This line creates the image of someone licking glass. Is that what you intended?
Through its tears, myself, out it kept. -The idea of a window crying could be interesting. However, I can't get pass that the tears are the speaker's salvia. 

I began carving tunnels in my head. -This should be metaphorical. Maybe if you added something to describe how or with what they did the carving with, and then there would be a metaphor instead of an image of someone digging holes into their own head. 
The first hole hissed; a silence fell in. -How does a hole in one's head hiss? Is that the noise the blood is suppose to make?
It stayed, for it was a loss and a win. -How are carving holes in your own head a win? Again, this just creates the impression on me of a serial killer to me. 

A portal is anything:
space between nothing. How does this relate to the last stanza? Are the holes portals? If so, you need to expand on that idea.

My eleventh finger crawled out of my navel, -Creates more of an image of a worm than a finger. Again, I think you're trying to be metaphorical, but you need to build it more for it to work.
clutching a spool of smoke. -I think you need more than one finger to fully clutch anything.
It spun and said, “Remember?” -Fingers can't talk. This makes me question the speaker's grip of reality and I'm not sure if that is your intention.
I don’t.

The twelfth gripped a mirror, -A finger can't grip. I think you need a full hand for that. 
held it to the back of my skull. -Is a finger strong enough to hold a mirror? 
The image blinked, then spoke:
“You are not the first to vanish here.” -I like the idea of a reflection saying that to someone and it could be a good poem on its own, if you want to expand on it. 

The thirteenth was a tongue—mine? someone else's? -Again, a severed tongue seems like a serial killer thing to do.
It licked the pulp inside.
A brain? -Remembering that the tongue is a finger, how can a finger lick a brain, other than to dig into someone's head? Very gruesome and works if the speaker is some sort of serial killer.
Or was it a moon, flowing like tide? -Mixing your metaphors like this distracts from the finger as a tongue.

My thoughts were Swissed, pocked with echo-holes. -Capitalizing "Swissed" made me think of people from Switzerland. You might want to lose the cap. 
Each memory whistled through them like wind. -What are the memories of? I would suggest expanding on this to create a more powerful image.

The fourteenth knuckled the dark -I'm no biology teacher, but is the knuckle part of a finger? Also, if "knuckled" is supposed to mean some sort of punch, I don't think a single finger can punch, but it would poke. 
and pulled up a fish
made entirely of questions. -If you want a metaphorical fish, then the "dark" from the first line should be some sort of body of water. 

The fifteenth came blindfolded in fog, -A finger doesn't have eyes, so it doesn't need a blindfold.
dragging a bell with no clapper. -Dragging a bell with just a finger would be difficult.
It rang nothing. 
I listened. -Listening to nothing could be an interesting image, but you need to explore it more.

My head was now a cathedral of portals. -How does an image of a cathedral work with all these fingers? Maybe folded hands that are praying? If so, you need to use that image somewhere else in the poem to set this up.
The pews cried rust. -I could be wrong, but aren't pews usually made of wood?
The stained-glass refused to depict me. -I like this line, but what does it have to do with the fingers?

Then something stirred. -"Something" is a dangerous word because it can have meaning and also mean nothing. Here, I'm not sure what it means. 
Not thought. Not pain. -If the "something" from above is supposed to be painful, changing it to hint at that would give this line more weight.
An absence that grinned. -Not a bad bit of personification, but you need to build to it more. It doesn't seem to have a place in this poem about fingers. 

And I,
with my sixteenth finger, -Again, sounds like a serial killer. 
threaded it into the last hole -This creates quite the unsettling mental image. I'm not entirely sure if that was your intention in this poem. 
until the skull creaked open
like a sky unzipping. -How does a sky unzip? 

Inside?
Only space -I thought there was brain/moon in there?
And I was free. -I can't help but wonder how more fingers can create freedom. If anything, it's more to carry.  

I would be curious to see you revise this and remove all the finger stuff and just focus on some of the more interesting images/language you had sprinkled throughout this piece.

Cheers,
Richard