"Sharpness of Knives" | Creative Writing | Seven Days | Vermont's Independent Voice

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"Sharpness of Knives"

Poetry

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The gristle in this meat is killing us

with kindness, its fatness quaint

in 2008 as the days

swindle into unexpected darkness,

sharpness of knives kept in a safe.

Kindness has limits we have to obey.

The clock holds out its hands to us —

time appears to bend our way.

We watch it fly out a closed window

to the day before yesterday.

Given the chance to live again, do.

Remember that October the trees turned

redder than your ass in the shower?

I wouldn’t want to give up either.


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