By: Katie Sieracki

The page cut my finger

before I could turn it.

I sat and watched myself bleed,

staining my already-muddied manuscript.

 

“Perhaps the flow will never stop,” I think,

as the pages glom together.

The blood dries fast and sticky,

making for a most grisly glue.

 

I try my hand at turning the page,

but the adhesive of my own making

leaves the leaf as ornery

and obstinate as a child.

 

The parchment’s morbid protest means

my page spread will hold steadfast,

stuck on the same stubborn sheets

scrawled with those pathetic paragraphs

 

A fittingly macabre backdrop

for such a sullen chapter it could be,

but maybe, if I rally my resolve,

I can work the pages free.

 

I will wage war against my own despondency.

I will conquer the apathy within.

I will turn the page

so a new chapter can begin.

 

 

Katie Sieracki lives in Los Angeles where she works as a preschool teacher’s assistant. She is currently pursuing her master’s degree in social work, and enjoys photography and writing poetry in her free time.
Instagram: @katiesieracki