The Lost Knife


An empty place,

a rectangular gash
where Wusthof classic
steak knife number six

did rest.

No square peg
in round hole, this
complete set
stood at attention

Whatever they had to cut up,
they did the job with zest.

A proud sight
for the obsessive
cook or snobby
owner of miscellaneous
status equipment,

each member
of this tight clique

whittled a slash,
or simply gashed
if in a hurry,

a space

into a wooden showoff case.
(Lesser knives are thrown
Into a drawer.)

Nobody bothered them

except the cook to whom
they granted safe use.
Each implement cut a
neat figure into
this precise life

until one disappeared


a mystery
as it attempts to scratch
its own script
(even if the mystery is just cutting
pieces of food into bits)
as the actor.

Another director
(Do knives have their own god?)
must have a different idea.
Maybe a thief stole it

or the knife got lost on purpose,
longing for a brand new owner
to have hold it
and make bleed.

Maybe it just got sick
of chopping onions.

What becomes this knife’s destiny?

Will it be involved in a murder,
plunge into someone’s unsuspecting flesh,
drain life out
into unrealization’s Holy Grail?

Does it lie

in some sleazy corner,
collecting dust,
or tightroping pirouetting ants
on its razor’s edge?

Does it slice cocaine
from a dealers hand
into a user’s habit

Did it get demoted
so far that it hides
in a drawer
with other
inferior instruments?

Will it surprise by becoming
a hero and perform
lifesaving surgery
in anyworld country?

Good German that it is,
it needs to do its duty
with no nonsense technical skill
whether that be to save, cook or kill.

Is it in Hannibal’s jacket,
chopping food for the hungry,
in a nunnery,
creating space in a witches coven,
carving initials in a quaking Aspen?

Sadly this knife
cannot pick up the phone
and call home.

~ by dianeklammer on February 20, 2013.

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