on the subject of wholeness, or, i have 14 contact hrs per wk

arthur took my shoes from from the chair and with the carving knife shredded the canvas into uneven strips. he didnt look at me, or seem aware that i was still there, still existant. with every tear his knuckles were white with effort. when he wasfinished he took the other shoe and with one sharp jerk caught it clean in half. the steel on rubber on wood shook me, and never left the room.
"which is more whole, lucy?"
i stared at the dying shoes, but neither spoke.
"one is shredded, but has all its parts intact. the other loses half of its material but thehalf that remains is undamaged. which is whole? which is more whole?