Kindra M. Austin – Paper v. Scissors – Scissors win
I was angry, too,
so I sat down beside her in the mauve painted bedroom.
Your face lay in fragments,
strewn about the floor.
The carpet was brown,
and worn too thin.
Loose threads tickled my bare legs.
I crossed my legs,
and selected a photo album.
The kitchen shears felt good in my irrational young hands.
I lifted you from a yellowed page,
and considered the length of your hair.
You looked like the Catholic Jesus Christ, and I decided
I quite liked the sarcasm.
I thought no more
about ruining such a fine image of you and your AMC Javelin.
Instead, I selected something forgettable.
She watched me with wet red eyes and a sick smile.
You know, my mother is the only person I’ve ever known who
actually made the boo-hoo sound when she cried.
And she cried.
She always cried
back in those trailer park days.
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