Tuesday, 31 October 2017

Paper Cuts

Small wounds that tip my fingers, dirt on snow,
while color ads for clothes this spring prevail.
My morning cuts, like flowers in a row,
scant outerwear for skin resembling kale!

Each year this happens and I’m not sure why
unless the paper that I use takes on new life:
Typing, photo, greeting cards--I’m shy
revealing cuts that make one think of strife.

Bandages go limp in dish-pans, showers.
Since I am loathe to re-apply them twice,
I go about my chores, while joy goes sour,
yet keeping spring in mind because it’s nice.

Buffer me from winter woes, not words,
then push me smartly south right now with birds.

© Kay Weeks

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Kay Weeks worked for 30 years for the US National Parks Service in the area of National Historic Preservation, retiring in 2005. She writes and publishes poetry in the US and the UK.

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