To the Girl I Was When I Bought This Book

The easy thing would be
to hate you: the smear
of your dull pencil is enough
to sigh my breathing.
You printed your name,

careful and proud, believing
you'd want it forever. I know
this book is brittle
from an avalanche of tissues. I know
you wanted blackberries

but planted only thorns.
These pages are stretched, bowed and tired,
this spine is nearly surrendered.
The hard part--and this
you even know--is arriving

at the endpapers, where (you
know) I will forgive you.

photograph by Signora Oriente


Mr. Apron said...

Ah, but hating isn't always the easy thing, is it? It's surely harder than apathy.

Kate Horowitz said...

Apron Boy -

Do you ever go back through your old journals or sketchbooks? It's really much easier to hate the person you were than to forgive her/him.

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