Scritch-scratch of blue ink on computer paper.
Ink stains my wrist, the spot under my
lower lip, the button of my cream dress.
Cross out half the page,
start again with familiar
words telling the same story over.
I get a high by deleting without
the backspace key, in seeing both
the replaced and the replacing.
Two stories on the page, words
from before hidden behind solid strike
outs imprinted on every line.
I leave a physical mark on each page, see
the first and the next, already reaching for
another color to uncover the third.
Very cool! I like it!
Thank you! I’d had the first stanza written for weeks and finally just said, I’m doing this.