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Sharp Objects

Writer's picture: Darkling ThrushesDarkling Thrushes

The nipple was a sharp object, 

And so was the doorknob to life. 

And the bright wings of birds. 

The answer was a sharp object, 

And the endless questioning lips. 

The pages of books were sharp too. 

The rebuke of the childish, sighs 

Of lovers, picket-fences and 

The hot pokers of marshmallows. 

Silken pillows, pens, credit-cards. 

Fresh water, salty water too, 

Oil tankers, the point of a rifle, 

The death rattle of a child. 

The words of saints, infant’s feelings. 

The feelings of an old senile man. 

And the promises of the King.

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