A Bladeless Knife Without a Handle

can’t cut much except 
for memories
or time

into smaller and
smaller units
and smaller still 

if you leap halfway across the stream
and then halfway again
and again

you’ll never get there
tantalizingly close but not
unless your feet are big

If I use nothing
to slice into nothing
I have nothing

but blood

One response to “A Bladeless Knife Without a Handle

  1. I love this poem, Marnie!

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