My fingerprint makes papercuts,
All I touch turns to blood and rust;
I hardly write before it shuts
the cover and I must adjust.
I sleep through day but dream at night
because that’s when the stories show
their plots to my mind’s lantern light
to creep into their roots and grow.
I started one about a girl
and how she took me in her fight–
Her silken raven hair of curls
had kept her from my loving sight.
The creases in my heart then grew
and shadow shawls covered my mind,
’til creases split and she fell through
into oceans I’ll never find.
A fence then split the dark to day
and from black water came a fox
to flash her beauty, smile and say
that different hearts need different locks.
We trod the ocean, sang and danced
To music, evening, thought and past.
I laughed at things like time and chance
and knew good fortune came at last.