It’s the fought that counts, isn’t it?
That I fought bravely with
blunt scissors, sentient paper,
cellotape with no obvious beginning,
tags too small for a
large hand, rectangular objects that
became somehow multi-dimensional, with
two left hands in need of a third.
Nevertheless, within this proferred
abortion of disfigured paper,
tape, tags, scrawl, I hope you will find
something that pleases you,
erases the mess I made and perhaps
provides a proof for String Theory.
