Monday, April 13, 2009
Ode to My Knife
In whose smooth grey strength I trust my life
Do you weep like I when dicing onions fine?
Does your steely tang ache with sharp love divine?
From Earth reclaimed and forged as mountains made
Are there mushrooms here or yet to be
That rise up and defy your cuttability?
In whose smooth grip a certain warmth I feel
When dreams do come and shadows shroud my food
You smite them right and left, like, awesome, dude
If only I could keep you from my scheming wife
The dishwasher that yawns with all its evil hate
Will never all your skills and pristine edge abate.
Posted by ChefNick at 6:32 AM