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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
Published inPoemPsyche

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