Straight Razor Poem by Randall Mann
Straight Razor
He slid the stiff blade up to my ear:
Oh, fear,
this should have been thirst, a cheapening act.
But I lacked,
as usual, the crucial disbelief. Sticky, cold,
a billfold
wet in my mouth, wrists bound by his belt,
I felt
like the boy in a briny night pool, he who found
the drowned
body, yet still somehow swam with an unknown joy.
That boy.
Thursday, October 5, 2017
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5/3/2024 5:36:21 PM # 1.0.0.1119
