Saturday, April 4, 2015

Hide the Knives

A recent prompt in my writers' group was to write about things we keep in the kitchen drawer. Not sure how it turned into this, but here's today's Napowrimo poem, Day # 4:

Hide the Knives

We don’t keep the sharp knives in a drawer,
so accessible, they jump at your fingers
too easily, rest on their backs, claws out.
Like you, even with eyes closed, seeming
passive, angelic look on your face; anything
but benign, sharp edges hidden, ready to pounce.
No time to withdraw, seek safe refuge.

Too late. Drops of blood drip on the silverware.
I can’t keep anything nice. Sting. Run water over it.
Wash it off with clenched teeth: Stitches?
Not this time. No doctor, nurse necessary. Slap
Bandaid on the wound, a little Neosporin will take 
care of that. If you shed a tear, I’ll give you something 
to cry about.  Clean the knife when you’re done.
Put it away. It might hurt someone.

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