There’s a solid blue pen,
As blue as Zankynthos caves,
As a calm mediterranean sea,
As the eyes of the creature
That stares back at me.
Translucent blue plastic skin
With simple white insides.
A grip that’s too large,
And shiny silver details.

Made a dime a dozen
In foreign lands far away;
Crammed with its twins
A hundred pens, all the same;
More than anyone wants,
Sent by boat on blue seas
The same color as the pens,
To be left out on store shelves,
To be judged by passersby.

Finally, it was bought
To sign laws and bills,
Letters and documents,
And secrets and gossips.
Meant for one purpose,
To be under the domain
Of one human master.

But this pen belongs
In another man’s hand