The closely typed and printed pages of
an academic draft lie in the basket
screwed up and thrown higgledy-piggledy
screaming of frustration and anger.
Beneath lies the flat and restrained
text of a child's self-penned story
first draft in her own hand. I pour
my breakfast tea and ponder how
a recycling basket can say so much,
little sculptures expressing the mood
of their sculptor, how the paper
speaks of the trees it came from.
an academic draft lie in the basket
screwed up and thrown higgledy-piggledy
screaming of frustration and anger.
Beneath lies the flat and restrained
text of a child's self-penned story
first draft in her own hand. I pour
my breakfast tea and ponder how
a recycling basket can say so much,
little sculptures expressing the mood
of their sculptor, how the paper
speaks of the trees it came from.
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