The Pen

            Black blood on the table,

            Encased in plastic flesh

            Stares at me and asks

 What I want to say.

            “Why are you here?” it asks.

            “What do you want to do?

            Do you want to tell a story?

            Do you want to craft a poem?

            I want to fly across the page.

            Lead me down the rows.

            Make me dance and jump and sing;

Tell me where to go.

            I can help you show your heart

            And reveal your soul.

            With me, your thoughts become as sinewed flesh;

            Your words unbending bone.

            So let’s make a paper soldier,

            Or craft a written Romeo.

            But don’t just leave me here,

            Unused and alone.”