PENCIL - MARTHE G. WALSH

 

pencil

there is something satisfying

in the friction

the drag of graphite

across a blue lined page

reassuring, the slightly slower

pace of pencil

translating synaptic surges

into symbols meant

to convey the thing

I was not supposed to say

   (erase the worst of it

   the jarring jagged bits

   too painful for response)

feel the sharp shaved point

soften under it

this pressure to covey

in loops and strokes and dots

all the woulds and shoulds

and swollen knots

of life sharpened and ground

and sharpened again only

to shorten into nubs

   (rubber long gone to

   endless hesitant revision)

I do not toss away

sentimental fool

to keep the spent penny tool

of impermanence

never mind the humility

inherent in the reluctance

to commit to ink

   (brush away pink and gray

   lint of things best not to think)

the world it seems

has no use for either

random longhand thought

or the scratching glide

on rough recycled sheets

analog obsolete profitless things

unlikely to go viral

privacy maintained by

disinterest, not firewall

the 2.5 preferred to the

more common No.2

for a small pleasure

whole generations will not know

the future’s quill

my Ticonderoga

shorter now

  (Marthe G. Walsh)

I obliged Marthe by picturing her favored 2.5 pencil.  The poem is in response to Elizabeth Kaeton's post on her blog, Telling Secrets, on using pencils.  If I were on Facebook, I would definitely click "Like" upon reading the poem.