Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Paper Cut

Part of emotional intelligence is finding the beauty in the most everyday things. I have to spend a lot of the time in the office, so my esthetic poetry choices are somewhat limited. I've tried to find the beauty that is in this mundane experience. I hope I've had success.

Paper Cut

As he reaches

down

through the layers
of
the box,

he feels
the pain,

a cry
is heard,

and his
fingers,

they come away
smeared red.

The edges
are
so thin,

they cut

like
a
knife.

The pain
he
knows,

will last
a long,
long
time.

Longer

than such a
thing, a
little thing,
should last.

A bandage
will be
of no use;

the wound is so
small,
so very small,

but it
will stay
open

for longer,
so
much
longer,

than it should.

3 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oooo! The lines are like a paper cut, so thin and delicate, you weilding so much pain.

December 20, 2005  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Sometimes I think this poem goes on a bit longer than it should.

December 20, 2005  
Blogger Eugene said...

Thank you for sharing your thoughts! If the poem's too long, I say, "Balls in Flight."

December 20, 2005  

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