my pencils are dull.
not because they aren’t tended to,
not because they’re like the overused pencils
in a kindergarten class.
my pencils, they have no sharpener.
the pointy edge that kept whimsical strokes
alive moved to serve
my pencils, lack what they need.
it’s harder to stay in the lines,
they have curves rather than points;
they need strong direction.
the pencil sharpener is dull.
instead of precisely crafting sharp points,
the blade had to switch careers-
to one it was not made for.
the pencil sharpener, foreign.
it switched to a job more selfish,
and cannot understand what it’s doing.
it’s a paintbrush that only paints red.
the pencil sharpener, missing.
did it retire? did it figure out what happened?
no, no, no, no.
its home was switched out-of-reach.