The Kitchen Shears Speak Poem by Christianne Balk

The Kitchen Shears Speak

Rating: 3.0


This division must end.
Again I'm forced to amputate
the chicken's limb; slit the joint,
clip the heart, snip wing from back,

strip fat from flesh, separate
everything from itself. I'm used,
thrown down by unknown hands,
by cowards who can't bear to do

the constant severing. Open and close!
Open and close. I work and never tell.
Though mostly made of mouth, I have no voice,
no legs. My arms are bent, immobile

pinions gripped by strangers. I fear
the grudge things must hold.
I slice rose from bush, skin from muscle,
head from carrot, root from lettuce,

tail from fish. I break the bone.
What if they join against me,
uncouple me, throw away one-half,
or hide my slashed eye? Or worse,

what if I never die? What I fear
most is being caught, then rusted rigid,
punished like a prehistoric
bird, fossilized, and changed

into a winged lizard, trapped while clawing
air, stuck in stone with open beak.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Khairul Ahsan 14 May 2015

Imaginations nicely put into words. Loved the poem.

0 0 Reply
Kim Barney 14 May 2015

Very creative and convincing. Well done indeed.

0 0 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 14 May 2015

Punished like prehistoric. Nice piece of work.

0 0 Reply
Savita Tyagi 14 May 2015

Wonderful! An interesting read till end.

0 0 Reply
John Richter 14 May 2015

Way cool! I've always suspected that my kitchen shears has a glorious imagination like this! But I can never seem to find her when I really need her. Do you think she is hiding from me?

0 0 Reply
BEST POEMS
BEST POETS
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success