Cutter

2003-06-05 - 11:15 a.m.

i sliced the words clean through with the blade, slash slick in long lines the paper splinters gathered in the discard pile where i gave up all hope of abandoning the words, where i spoke words hopeful of abandon and where hope was the word meaning our abandonment. The paper shreds lie light and soft as snow, stacking on top of each other trying to grow up tall as the trees they used to be, trying to undo the words and the bleach and find again roots and branches and so much green irretrievable.

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Pretend it's 10th grade. Leave me a note.

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