Tiny paper cuts
ruffled peony, forest
blooming while we sleep.
When the sky is low
and undecided still
I lift this heart
with its thousand paper cuts,
place it on a weathered sill.
My heart
with its knuckled ridges
and secret ravines
I am feeling glad
about the places
where severed edges meet
and do not close--
With the moonlight pouring through them
my heart becomes
a lantern,
Your words
blow through my hair
nibble at my neck
like pigeons in winter.
This poem was inspired by prompts: One Single Impression "exhibition, Sunday Scribblings "surrender", Carry on Tuesday "After all, tomorrow is another day" and Haiku Heights, "heal".
