TWO POEMS
Jul 01, 2020
1 minute
JOAN LARKIN
Old Stranger
When my lost carbon steelknife turned up as ifit had never left the drawer—dark haft, trio of nickel silverrivets like moons of Pluto,thin blade stained as before—I breathed, spoke toreached for the old stranger. Touchedits whetted edge. Alive, it couldchange tomatoes to glisteningdiscs, basil to little hills, drawblood from meat. It rakedjoy onto my plate while the gauzethat wrapped my cut, reddened.
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