This is a poem about cutting and keeping, about how something whole can be reshaped by removing pieces. It’s inspired by RNA splicing, but also by the way we edit our own stories.
“Wholeness, Spliced”
Red ink strikes out the messy lines,
bleeding backward.
Scissors hover in hesitation.
Snap. Do you remember
what you lost?
Snap. Can you recall
the path that
brought you here? Snap.
Fragments curl like fallen leaves.
Pieces folded, tucked into quiet corners.
Tear them down.
Dissolve them, a faint fizz.
The snip echoes louder than it should.
The cut is clean.
But memories sting
like ozone rushing in.
I cough.
A bitter taste,
like ancient decisions
centuries old.
A weightless tremble,
like wind brushing
newborn skin.
Is what you are
only what remained?
Can wholeness be spliced?
A taste of copper,
faint and sudden.
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