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A Knife

I held a knife
Blade shining slick,
Siren singing to my sinful soul
Nordic ground,
Belly round,
Tang full,
Edge sharp
Like yearning
As biting as pain
Steel spine
Cold against my skin
Raising hairs
On my naked arm
Handle of southern Tamboti wood
Red lined
Colour of dried blood, satin smooth
Fragrant spice perfume
Rich to my nostrils,
Warm, sensuous, sinuous,
Like an old lover
Lightly lying in my hand
Oh how I long
To release your gift
And with that favour
Release my own11/02/2017

© 2018, Adrian North. All rights reserved.

Published inPoemPsyche

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