by Emily Tong

I can only write what's in me and
even that is
not enough. Ribbons upon ribbons of
papercuts would line
the edges of my eyes, neck, wrists, heart,
but I held back the traitorous
scissors. no, thank you, no
counseling for me; I would rather swim
my thousand miles of ocean
alone. a parasite, I,
causing my own predicament
merely by doing what I do
to survive.
and this is not enough.
the point is misleading, perhaps
it doesn't even exist.
so don't bother to analyze
a misconstrued heartbeat,
a thump in the wrong darkness.


Posted on 12/03/2007
Copyright © 2022 Emily Tong

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Joe Cramer on 12/03/07 at 09:00 PM

Exceptionally well done!

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