When you start something, you don’t know how it will end
Sometimes you don’t even know when it begins
Sometimes you only notice partway in
Like entering a labyrinth
They gave me a circular bone saw, the type with a blade perpendicular to the handle. It felt heavy in my hand, though somehow light as a feather. I was told to “give myself a haircut,” with it, though I had no idea what that meant. I assumed they meant a literal haircut, so I said, “I can’t without a mirror.”
The hinges on an old door.
The legs of a runner after waking up from a coma.
The hands of a pianist after healing a broken finger.
The edge of an abandoned kitchen knife.
Like a beautiful paintingOnly to look at, not to touchFull of illusion and falsehoodThe appearance of permanence — — Of tactility — — Of softnessLike a massive cotton ball — — A giant, fluffy beanbag — — A comforter that swallows you wholeBut they’re notThey’re wet — — and cold — — and darkMuch…