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Her Various Scalpels

Author: 
Sophie Mayer

I tell you: I was born

like a knife – all folded.

 

The rest - I learned. What

you call surface all

 

space - slotted with blades.

Its sense of retractable. Its edge –

 

imperceptible. To be whetted

on the world, that's the stone of it.

 

We live by prepositions

& are mineral - nothing but

 

what happens to -

it's the talent of smoke

 

in an era of shine. And if

I run a current –

 

and if I run

a gauntlet - and if red appears

 

upon it - that is

 

the flick

silver – and

 

over. My

blade.

From Issue 66/67 Staple, Spring/Summer 2007

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