By J Dean November 2004
I'm very skilled at making mistakes,
But fixing them - that's not my forte.
Clumsy hands fumbling the plastic rodent over helpless words, Unable to cover them all in one stroke.
The "i" s of wounded words brim with tears Around the dead white line, And that must affect me somehow, Because my second slash is never as sure as the first, And the white line covers my clawed fingers instead of their birth-pink faces.