one last time...

Ok, as per Cara's request, here is the once-again-updated version of my paper world poem. I am considering reading it at the poetry slam...will let you know how it goes if I do!

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I have recently come to realize that I am living in 

a paper world,

a delicate shoebox diorama

that I have carefully constructed out of tiny strips

cut from the pages of storybooks and novels

and other people’s poems.

Painstakingly I have trimmed and clipped and curled them

into familiar objects, arranged them

within their three cardboard walls

as a child arranges and rearranges a dollhouse.

I have cut out crisp silhouettes for companions,

detailed their arms and eyes and hair

with a sharp pencil,

painted their bracelets and neckties

in rich colors with a tiny brush.

I have dyed the background of my box

a brilliant life-green like trees

and a wild blue like the ocean.

I know this paper world of mine.

I have traced over every corner,

every curve of it with my fingers

a thousand times.

But this is a world that must be kept out of the wind,

away from the fire.

(Paper lovers beware.)

It is a world once removed from its own beating heart,

a flat white story full of words and wisdoms,

signifying nothing,

and I do not want to live here anymore.

I want the world of heavy winds and sharp coral and open seas,

or better yet,

I want the world of leaping flames and flying sparks,

where words burn away to reveal

a truer story.

But as you can see, I am still a prisoner

here in this paper cell, and the paper warden guards her ring of keys

as I guard my stories and my metaphors,

each one thickening the wall between us by another hair’s breadth.

I speak to you now through this flat sheet of paper

only because it is all I have,

but enough words.

You are my only visitor today,

and I have only one question for you:

do you have a match?