One needn’t know the nodules of my
secret self
to clasp to my
super nova-
The ballpoint pen bears meaning beyond the plastic
even after extensive efforts
you can't expect to be the one
to ceremoniously break it
but broken, does it matter which beaten,
battered guise it takes?
Consider the others like it:
a million pieces of shattered sharpness, still producing ink.
No matter the tired efforts of your fingers,
extensions of the brain which aches for escape,
ragged nails picking at that plastic piece--
the potential remains.
Consider the ink: succinct
reserved, and well.