Cut

When I was young

I used to bite my nails –

teeth-busying-tug-tearing at frayed ends –

until the quick was swiftly reached.

I never knew I wanted

sharp blade metallic click

to make the edges smooth.

But I soon learned to hew

and shape a life to fit

untidy corners where I lived.

And so I cut and cut

and cut again, through

friends & memories & taste.

It’s habit now, I think.

Though I might wonder
if it’s right.

This is a revised and edited version of the piece that I read out in the Poetry Group developed from a free-write on the theme of Patterns.