Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Thumb

I'd be grateful if I could feel my thumb,
biting down on these business casual scissors,
then the paper cuts and staple punctures
decorating the blue-purple oil-paint midnight sky skin
wouldn't just be a mishandled decoration,
emerging from the pock-marked snow,
appearing like forgotten christmas lights
glowing under a February band-aid.

No comments:

Post a Comment