He is his own typewriter


He is his own typewriter,

words overlapping,

anxious to be pages,

in a well-thumbed story;

re-told like a prayer,

felt like an expletive.

His hands tap his thigh.

Keys making contact.

Paper emerging from

the line of fire,

greatly changed,

but proud of its,

well-earned,

type-face stripes.

(For Anu)

 

 

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “He is his own typewriter

Comments are closed.