A poem owed

[megwrites]

Dedicated to: @xiomberg for the generous donation in the tip jar for City of the Hand. I hope this poem is worthy of your gift to me.


"Writing Implements"


I miss writing in pencil
the way I did when a student
erases then seemed
a restrain and an insult to
my certainty
I wanted pens, pens, pens!
I bold, in colored ink
mistakes regardless, no, especially!
I treasured my errors then
in the days of pink rubber ends
like a mat to catch me
when I overbalanced, miscalculated
I wanted to let them all stand
even when I fell
I wanted the unfettered tightrope
I wanted the danger of permanent decisions beneath me

Now I use pens and all my wrongs
find inky immortality
the misspellings misunderstandings
mischief misery mistiming
missing words
all forever and ever
incontrovertible and uncorrectable

Older now, I push harder on pens and
my hands ache if I've pressed long enough to
try to squeeze perfection
from my very joints
I try harder, I try with better paper, better tools
I even try to let the lines curl
until mistakes become miracles

And still my teeth ache to bite on wood
and rubber and to find the ease
of wiping any and everything away
to leave a new space and a new start