Embracing Chaos

Shredding

 

A hundred color bits.

What was once a plastic cup becomes one hundred colored bits

and he who wields the scissors with a smile

verge of a laugh – a cackle – sparkling eyes

You’ll stop me, he seems to say,

You’ll be unhappy with this!

My anger

the intense frustration pouring out of my body

the drug on which he is tripping.

 

Red bits,

shreds of plastic

cover the table, and the boy with scissors  chops

not too quietly

while the speaker speaks

at a church supper.

I say “Not too loud -it has to be quiet -”

and he hears.

And life goes on, somehow

with bits of plastic,

on the banquet table cloth.

 

Afterward my friend asks, “How did it go with Owen?”

And I say “You tell me”

she says “I didn’t hear him at all”

can it be that everyone understands

the boy with the scissors

and his bits?