Poetica Spontenaium

It was in my left hand I forgot about it.

This rusty blade, blunt and ugly.

That is until I walked by your side

and down this path

and I tripped.

And while you reached out your arm to stop me

from falling, I threw out

my hand

and an arc of hurt

caught you by the arm.

This cannot be undone.

But it was not with malice done.

Posted by Min Jung in General, Poetica Spontenaium | Trackback

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