wallpaper

there were layers
upon layers of thin
patterned paper,
like skin woven
upon itself, clouds
and wagons, steeples,
cows bent in pastures
over sunlit still
horizons. everything
a wet grey blue. paper
without memory, now
coming undone, under
my hand, moving
the stiff blade across
and down, tearing
at yesterdays, at
someone's long pondered
idea for bedroom
walls, where they
would lie against
a pillow with someone
they loved or didn't
love, and wonder
if their choices
had been otherwise.