Lydia McCaffery’s Cutlery
in her apron of doom, she dresses the hare with a sharp kit.
they glisten with their purpose; dividing fowl from the air
solving the agony of hunger… with a pang of grace
and Darwinian inertia.
the knives dream of clean cuts
and mangos.
and her kitchen
is pristine
as a bell.
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Dear AUGUST!!
How I Love your poetic mind...... and the enigmatic glimmer of your words touch!!........ALL STARS!!......I am your cyber-friend and admirer!!.......T xo. : )
stupid happy Me!!