Kathleen Medvidofsky

I could write a retort that would cut through the thickest skin,
shape words into weapons that always find their target, and
make the art of destruction so beautifully brutal
that you will watch your acrimonious words float to the ground;
rainbow confetti scattered
amidst surgically scissored origami shreds of contempt.

But
I would rather string words on gold thread,
telling my truths in colored swirls of folded wings, and
I will hang these tales in calm breezes and tempestuous gales
where they might fly for you
if you open your eyes.