Poems on

Knifeā€™s Edge

a poem by Christuraj Alex

I often wonder at a knife-edge.
I thank, for this, the master craftsman;
Shine or dull; sharp; or blunt like a wedge,
Within them, hides vast arts a million.

Assortments of knife-edges I know.
V edge: for veggies! Tool of mothers;
Convex V: splitter’s sharp stiletto.
Scimitar: beloved of butchers.

Chisel-edged: Japanese Acetone!
‘Sushi knife-edge’ – Awesome! Rudely spiky!
Serrated-edged: bread-knife, common-known,
Without which my home might look empty.

Macbeth’s and Caesar’s deadly daggers,
Had edges worth catharsis crisis;
Atrocious murderers and gangsters,
Used them for their cutthroat serials.

Fights brawled; won and lost; at knife-edges.
History has witnessed man’s follies;
Chopped heads, hands, mutilated organs;
Yet, graves bejeweled with white lilies!

Slash fruits! Slit vegetables! Slice bread!
Shatter shackles! Free all the enslaved!
Think once, twice, thrice before lives you shred.
Lives lost cannot be re-assembled.