November Poems 10

Papercut Descartes

She opens the pages
and sees
the object of her desire
in the curve of a type press snake;
a river of white space
reveals his profile:
his nose, his lips, his chin

she wonders
if he can sense her watching
for who was it said
that the object of attention
is changed by the attention
so surely he must sense her reading
of his deeds and exploits
and his skill
with the little sharp knife
he keeps in his waistband
close to his spine.
And look! Does the book
not have a spine also?
she hisses
with the sudden pain of a paper cut
and a bloom of blood on the cover