keep your verses, Adeline:
i’ve got my chef’s knife in its sheet
and a blackleather case. it’s cushioned
by soft marbled velvet, the blade
(a symbiotic detainment of silver ocean waves)
nestles snugly. Adeline your
verses are sharp but my knife
of forged steel, a sixteendegree edge
and D-shaped handle to fit firmly
in my hand is sharper—i will draw
more juice from a tomato
than your verses will blood.
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