|
|
to a blade |
|
|
|
I am fond of you, in a way |
|
light-gleaming, razor-edge |
|
stiletto-grace point |
|
balanced delicate in my palm |
|
weight shifting gently |
|
a dancer |
|
a bird of prey |
|
|
|
You hold your edge well |
|
harsh carbon steel |
|
honed to a stainless |
|
well-piercing wedge |
|
that cuts |
|
paper thin |
|
hair thin |
|
so thin |
|
i can't see |
|
just feel you |
|
cut |
|
whisper thin |
|
silent |
|
|
|
So will you know |
|
what you pierce |
|
deliriously, |
|
joyously |
|
biting your way |
|
through what |
|
you |
|
don't |
|
care... |
|
|
|
© Jon Bohrn (1998) |
