knife me yes

the serrated church 
is opening like a too-early blossom
on the face of the dead lake.
my backyard is an ice zoo
full of howler monkey echos. 
the knifes take a walk 
hand in hand like sisters.
if i had a sister i would
have cut off her hair as if
she were a doll. on a thursday
anyone can be sacred. a collective
waiting moth perches 
on my wrist. the phone 
disconnects & i try over & over
to sit back in your mouth
in the grandfather-smelling recliner.
hang knives on the wall. 
throw knives to stick in the ceiling.
it's the knife's birthday (hurray!).
power is a fleeting planet,
easily severed. 
rising & sharp behind the sun. 
would take only one day
to walk the circumference.
the knife knows everything 
there is to know about my 
fondant & my cream. marched 
down the street carrying a bucket
of roadkill. i want ethically sourced
bones. the knife wants 
to pare everyone he meets
down to the smallest division.
if you saw us in august 
you wouldn't believe 
what we've become. cubed,
i glisten like the only appetizer.
tooth picks swarm in the drawer.
knife of me, you knew
exactly what to say to make me
ring. knives multiply 
the longer you leave them 
without a block of cheese 
to muster. table covered 
in knives. knives lonely. 
my skin a platter you used to
leave your shoes on. how should we 
spend the last nights of our winter?
i want to take turns 
throwing knives out the window.
don't try to stop me.