ode to a knife

(note: i'll be posting my writing as readers homework here. the assignment this time was to write two odes to ordinary objects in the style of pablo neruda.)

O knife,
I have been warned about
you —
your innocence,
inadvertent
your accidents —
What lovely shine!
What perfect edge!
What immortal hand or eye
could really,
truly,
use you?

Sometimes when I'm
tired,
or I've been torn down,
fallen to the bottom of the ground,
you can catch me
on a knife's edge;
I am captured by the way
you slide,
smooth like a smile like
a silver tongue;
every second I am swayed
and I want to take,
wrap my hand around the
self-assured black of your handle
and see what you can do.

But I catch
my reflection (wide-eyed)
in your silver face,
o knife,
you tempt us with power
and rein us in with
reminders.

Dear blade.
Ruled by physics
(ruthless in killing),
I will leave you stuck,
magnetized,
I will leave you to hands
not so young and stupid
as mine.