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Poem

Shavings of eraser skin clot her eyelashes
And she’s afraid to blink
Because she doesn’t want the flakes to drop in her eyes
It all hung above her head like a thunderstorm
The ridicule 
The bruises beneath her rind
The water stains on her cheeks 
And on her pillowcase 
The goodbye letter engraved in interim graphite 
On a leaf of flimsy notebook paper
The words so crestfallen
So true 
So meaningless to the world
That it took her pencil and flipped it on its end
And scraped her pallid heart away from the page
And showered her with the erasures
And then overlapped the ghost with ‘LOSER!’
And now she has the cure against her vein
And she could swim away from the storm in a red rivulet
But the shards of eraser still have her too afraid to blink

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