A KNIFE
by Natalka Bilotserkivets, 1998

A knife,
           to cut bread.
A knife to carve a flute.
A knife
          to finish off the lamb
wounded by a wolf.
                               So
naked, dry and fast
the surface of the fish
cleaned with so much sweat
swims in the Sunday soup.

Sign of mercy and tears.
Don't touch it
without
           a nod of approval:
           this is a knife,
music that kills.
Not merely a phrase --
this is poetry
                     beyond
words,
here the grass wipes
the blade of the sky.

bil3.doc 5/13/98