Cold Cuts
Every week on YWS
I read poems about cutting.
And I wondered,
what’s all the fuss about?
So I tried it.
I got a loaf of earnest bread,
cut off a few thin slices,
and in-between them
I laid strips of turkey,
a slab of cheddar,
some sections of red tomato,
and a little pickle, shaped like a coin, and
sculpted with ridges.
I took my sturdy sandwich
with me outside
to eat as I mowed the lawn,
then cropped the hedge,
and lastly pruned the begonias.
I thought,
There’s something to this cutting thing
After all.
I went back into the house,
walked up to the bathroom,
grabbed my razor,
and gave myself a good shave.
For good measure,
I also trimmed my nails,
to just where I like them.
Afterwards, I felt like a million bucks.
I went to a club
that night, clean and free,
and danced for hours.
I met a girl there,
and I told her about the cutting.
She said it wasn’t really her thing,
but perhaps, there was something
that we could put together instead?
So we tried it.
Lying in bed, her warm body curled
in mine, I thought that in the end,
you can’t keep cutting away at life.
You’ve got to build it.
