paper cut
shredded paper on the countertop
serrated knife inside the kitchen sink
whose blood is that she asks
pointing to the countertop
and I respond innocently saying what blood
those droplets of blood making a trail
from this shredded paper on the counter
all the way to the kitchen sink
oh that blood I say
and she reiterates yes that blood
I wouldn’t know I say
I just got here
my eyes looking away as my feet
rock from heel to toe
sleeveless arms wrapped behind my back
april two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
Excellent
Thank you, Wanda.
You’re welcome
love this one! such powerful imagery
Thanks so much, Beth!
Ouch and great at the same time.
🙂
Well that was interesting
something a little different to say the least ~ thanks for visiting tara!
Yes! I do so enjoy your poetry
I so like this one. Paper cuts can have different meaning for us writers…bleeders of words.
Yes, indeed!