paul weinman
knife pocketed
I saw your eyes
like cellar windows
letting me see
what you want to
hide there.
The anger and revenge
metaphored
as some knife
to slice me
to wound me
when all you have
is a metal blade
hidden somewhere inside
unhoned, rusted, unused.
to use my knife
as symbol
with all its blades
gadgets hidden
appearing like magic
from seeminglt anywhere.
those are my ways
to pry into women
to screw into women
to squeeze into women
to twist into women
to cut into women
to lever into women
to poke into women
to pick into women
want me to take it out?