yes, only the paper will listen when
called upon
for what is a clean sheet but only our reflection
human
it:
crinkles
wrinkles
folds and bends
yellows with old age,
can always be changed
and always constant if unaltered
it:
speaks in words
embraced with lip kisses
can be cherished
can be destroyed
ashes to ashes
just like a human
print this poem:
place it in your everyday purse
of all things valued, kept upon
your person, close by
for comfort
for reflection
amidst the haste
the paper preserves:
your glory
your memory
your secreted confessions,
an exposure of your nakedness
your innermost outermost
the paper is skin:
can be scarred
held close by
shelved to be avoided
shed cells, store cells,
can be blood stained
can keep lipstick witness
dry tears, elicit tears
when we pass:
we leave behind
progeny
objects of valuable
meaningful to our unique
and papers
papers:
of legitimacy
of illegitimacy
of recollections
future predictions
remnants scraps
full books
our product
on this earth
the paper always listens,
patiently awaits our impatience
our truest friend, confidante
who can be confidently be trusted to
reveal our confidences
the clean sheet listens
as we part with thoughts
that can only be entrusted
to ourselves, our limbs
our entirety castoff
our entirety sustained
3:47am 11/29/19
