THE ARCHIVES: Chapter 93

Folded Paper

In the gym,
I found a folded sheet of paper
wedged between two sections of the bleachers.
I plucked it out
and unfolded it.
The sheet crackled, like it was stretching its fibers.
Four lines seared across the sheet,
inked in red like rage:
I DO NOT HATE CARRIE LAWSON
I DO NOT HATE CARRIE LAWSON
I DO NOT HATE CARRIE LAWSON
I DO NOT HATE CARRIE LAWSON

The writer must have tried to convince himself
(or herself),
but failed.
There was hatred in the way the pen
ripped right through the paper
as it was forced to demonstrate
the writer’s frustration.

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