POEM: "The Paper Cut"

The Paper Cut


Handling a precious calendar
with only my normal frenzy
when shit the left index finger
is sliced you know the one
I use to switch stuff on & off
in the spaceship before reentry
then before assessing the damage
I manage to twist my ankle
and further damage the nerves
I'm shouting at Scuttles the Robot
to go fetch the skin spray then go
back to the lab for the micromovie
How it throbs for the days on Earth
the Fool laughs under its breath
under the lens unfolds the reason
the blood had a latch that was undone
and the tiny blade came through
with astonishing ferocity.


© 2013 Rob Schackne­­