Old Scribe
Old Scribe
Dry and pointed, it bleeds nothing.
Scratch, scratch, scratch, it tears the paper.
Clang, it hits the bottom of the trash bin.
She frowns and retrieves it.
Licks the end and dabs the well.
The knobby fingers gracefully draw it across the page.
It bleeds freely in the eloquent strokes on the parchment.
July 10, 2020
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