Done

Leonie Bingham

Katoomba, New South Wales

Australia

The manuscript stretches …

it gazes over empty pens
tossed in the air like
pick-up-sticks that fall
wherever they choose:

some lie between
scrunched-up paper-balls,
others jut from
ink-blotched and
teacup-ringed mountains—

such bountiful ribbons of A4
finely shredded
by urgent fingers;
stirred up from time-to-time
to turn the crumbs,
hold the ferment off
for just a little longer.

All those words
weaving and wending
as they tumble
into the worm farm.

The manuscript looks back at me,
we smile at each other—
this chapter of our journey
is done.