Knife-Sharpener's Song

I said no word of her to him,

nor he of her to me, oh yes.

We sharpened down the sliding

hour the knives wooled thick

with rust, oh yes; the days grew

small and wider, stripping

words down to their edge-

cutthroat, flashy, without a flaw,

what he did to me, oh yes.

Turn by turn, those knives of hers

shone quietly aware, oh yes,

not I but she would be the one

he carefully undressed -

but he said no word of her to me

nor I to him of us, oh yes.

Structure

15 lines · 10 stanzas