Cut, Part 2

by Karen M. Raymond-Hart

writing the poem is
like the cutting

phrases without context
powerful unto themselves

words as bullets, jolting surprise
sometimes like the sting
sometimes like cool liquid on warm skin

I bleed nameless words
I bleed because I lack words

twisting to fit
yet still not quite

my razor is thirsty

words dribble to nothing
cauterized

6/10/2004