crumpled fingers

crumpled fingers
hold tight
to the crumpled
paper
bits

the hidden note
from the teacher
you dread to show your parents
is still there

sitting right there
on the floor
of your heart

a weight
that ties you to the dark room,
ties your eyelids
shut--
laced with a past
remark
that labelled innocence
wrong,

and told a darling infant
she wasn't shaped quite right--
if only she would sit still
instead of jiggle,
she would be safe

and the world of wonderland
became in that moment
a very dangerous place


crumpled fingers
hold tight
to the crumpled
paper
bits

open now
your hand
to see the ink
was but a passing thought
and long ago washed away
in the rain

it never had a life
of its own

for that teacher's eyes, too,
were sewn shut--
and who can teach a child
about the sun
when they live in the dark?

crumpled fingers
cannot
share

the currency remains