Do Not Despise the Day of Small Things

You will want to know
it was a paring knife
but not a pear, rather
an apple

of less than average size
I was preparing
when I sliced
my finger. Yes—

the pinky—
as you likely surmised
the blade’s incision
frictionless and quick.

I flew to the half-bath
applied tissue and pressure
without vitriol
but bled through

just a drop at first
then another
in the porcelain sink.
But this is the part

I can’t stop thinking of
as perhaps the start
to a song
or even a full haiku—

red droplets on white
contrast more than the screaming
a small vibrancy

of me. Imagine seeing
through a kaleidoscope—
that portal to a world
reinvented

by the slightest turn
of wrist. Even now
its color flows within
and flesh

once twinned
is mending beneath
a tiny (as you guessed)
butterfly Band-Aid—

Published by asaur