Knifeplay

It’s not like
she pictures
her knife slice
another
it’s just it’s
her own skin
not only
the sharpness
not even
the metal
the feeling of wetness
the newness
and seeping
is cleansing
in touch with…
But knifeplay’s
a man’s game
he flings it
(she watches)
so sloppy, so public
he opens and shuts it
when blades
slap and prick him
his blood rush,
empowerment
he laughs out...
But knives aren’t
for women
she'll do it
in private.
she'll do it so silent
so pretty and quiet
he’ll call her
a violet
so lovely and silent