“Scritcha-Scritcha”

 

A metal tipped umbrella,

Dragged along the ground.

The squitching wheels of trollies,

Traveling Park Street bound.

 

The motion of a hacksaw,

Slicing through a bar.

The action of a starter,

Turning over in a car.

 

Words and sounds about the world,

No silence do we keep.

Even Apneic breathing,

At night while we’re asleep.

 

Of all the sounds that sing to me,

The one I most savor,

Is the sound that comes,

from scissors cutting paper.

 

A greatly satisfying sound,

Mowing through a ream.

Scraps of paper left behind,

An origami dream.

 

So keep your white noise machines,

and rhythm of the sea.

Scissors cutting paper,

Is the only sound for me.

 

A very special thanks to EV. The devil is in the details, and in all the sounds around us.

40/40: Summer Poem Slam-a-bam is a project in which people have joined me for 40 days and 40 nights of on-demand poetry. They have submitted the concepts, ideas, and subjects; I’ve done the rest.