like a cat
i’m waiting for my owner
in my case, more gropes.
i am vain
i regularly conjure up poetry on my skin
do not give me yours.
i will recite every word to my last paper breath
so i can kid myself that paper is power.
my hands, are a canvas
canvas for anyone's dirty thoughts and dirty details
for if enough titles are painted on my body then perhaps
i will learn the complex trick
at trick of gaining depth.
and maybe the world will look as full.
as full and real as i
attest about it
read about it
dream about it
vision about it in books,
or dance with in music,
and maybe perhaps my edges will stop being ripped;
or my corners cut
or maybe my pages will not be burned and tossed aside.
true;
sometimes, i am this tiny
sometimes, i am this entangled
sometimes, i am this bonded
vulnerable, and judged by many
but also sometimes i am full of wonder
but right now, i am this.
| i am paper and no wonder i like words |