A word slides across the surface, /a slice of venomous brush
A word slides across the surface,
a slice of venomous brush
that cuts the heart and liver
leaving only guts of what once was,
what will never regain our trust.
On edge it slides into a crack;
small enough, it hides within a cookie,
misfortune in an envelope,
no hope that it will disappear
into thin air; it gloats.
And then it's lost in piles of notes
or locked inside some wooden box
like long forgotten luck
until the time its poison's needed
to inflict a paper cut.
© Kåre Enga