Four days after the wedding . . . finding my way back to normal

Today I am cardboard.

Not marble,

not patiently formed,

gracefully curved,

caressed into life

or beauty.







No, marble is alive.

I am cardboard.

Not metal,

not smoothly reflective,

carefully polished,

pressed into service

or function.

No, metal is alive.

I am cardboard.

Cardboard,

intentionally severed,

mindlessly shredded,

drowned to submission

or pulp.






All the life

squeezed and dried,

edges and corners

shaped into die-cut

semblance.

I am cardboard.

Still I lie.

Stiff, dull, dry.

Bland, harmless, useful.

Even recyclable.

Tomorrow I'm coming back as a butterfly.