The Cutlass Poem by Adeoye Adetoba
The Cutlass
Messenger of intent;
Docile and malleable.
Objectified with steel
Sharp and unbreakable.
No penchant for taste or thirst
Blood and syrup insipid they drip.
Grasses it trims, crops it harvests
Flesh it lacerates, bones it hacks.
Life and death rest on its handle;
Wooden and blunt.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Topic(s) of this poem: Decision
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4/23/2024 5:29:09 PM # 1.0.0.1119
