Elegy for a Gel Pen

Sep 15, 2022

Cobalt splatters, semi-permanent stains,

slowly seep into the ridge of my cuticle

and underneath

my wide, jagged nail

my faintly lined knuckle,

hypnotizing me.

My defective pen lives on

in a Rorschach image-- to be studied,

deciphered

and

interpreted like the pattern

of tea leaves left in a flowered cup, then

picked at and rubbed,

as I ponder the perfect diction.

Barbara Swander Miller