Somewhere, there is
a pile of scissors,
all waiting for
a guiding hand.
Safety scissors compare
stubby tips with nail scissors;
surgical scissors and kitchen shears
talk over finer points of tendon, bone.
All have platinum-white blades,
gold handles. All lie jumbled
in a drawer, waiting, hoping
to someday be
To be linked later today at Open Link Night at dVerse Poets.