I am playing with knives
again
sharpening them
lovingly
against brown leather strap
admiring the way
hair splits cleanly
upon the well-honed edge
(Christine E. Ray)

Listen!
Sounds like a violin–
fine strings ‘gainst steel bow
I play concerto
splitting hairs
(Kindra M. Austin)

I’m trimming those frayed ends
sharpening those
pointy convictions
giving them a sharp edge
a serrated opinion,
ready to pierce you
where it hurts you more
(Megha Sood)

Cold steel on skin,
I blossom,
stare down the line
take aim
at friend, foe and fortune
with my throwing knives;
multiply and divide,
split and survive.
(Kristiana Reed)

I like a razor
but xyraphi sings to me
of shreds, edges, ends
sweeter than any cutlery.
An x is an eraser,
that’s why I draw it long
to keep it clean and short
and shave me complication.
Oh, how I love a razor!
(Basilike Pappa)

There was a shadow crowd
And a circle of light. Sawdust stank
Beneath my feet like dirty salt hair
And the thud
Against the board
Came like the footsteps of God.
Ribbons of air and time and space
Gathered round my ankles,
Coils of blue light.
Looping and curling and purring,
They crooned my power,
Sharp to draw blood from stone.
(Lois E. Linkens)

the slice was white lightening
lacerating flesh from bone
in the moment of searing truth.
I slash and gnash
my teeth barbed and keen
well-oiled from the feast
of my rotting soul.
I chop at the edges
of yesterday’s sorrow
but the pain! I feel it not
only the blinding sting
of my wayward might
(Aurora Phoenix)

All the time in the world
Pressing down
Sharp as the obsidian
Black night
You relinquished me
To oblivion
Surviving on
Insidious pain
Of yesterday
Tapered to the edge
Of no tomorrow
(1Wise-Woman)

I aim at dreams
knife them
as trophies on my wall.
I can always
take one down
quench the thirst
of a turbulent wound
with
tainted endearment
from the poisoned well
We dug and drained
under the wing of
One night.
I’m in love
with a stabbed dream.
(Iulia Halatz)

The blade cut into the night and flashed silver against the moonlight. And even though my ears heard no sounds but the thundering of my heart, I swore I could hear the sharp metal singing it’s high-pitched tune as it sliced through the air. It slipped through my skin like it was warm butter and at first I felt nothing. I wondered if maybe it was shock or disbelief. But then the pain started. Like someone injected gasoline into my bloodstream and lit a match. I watched as the thick, red liquid poured out of the fresh wound and begged for death. And as he stood over me, he licked my blood from his dagger and smiled down at me in a show of blood-stained teeth — right before everything went black.

When I awoke from the nightmare, I reminded myself that I was alive and the true face behind my fears liked it when I called him Daddy. The only comfort I found was knowing that death came for him first. Too bad he didn’t take the memories with him.
(Sarah Doughty)