Christopher Michael, gay, gay poetry

The Knife

do not attempt to save another’s life
no matter how appealing
the desire to play god
nor how ruinous their course may be
if they’ve come this far, on their own,
they are most capable of saving their own
fucking hides!
kindly, dear sir, take back your dagger
golden bejeweled knife of dubious origin
I have plucked it from my back where
you so kindly misplaced it, let
me return it with well wishes
do not attempt to save another’s life
no matter how heroic the deed
vainglorious the outcome of
taking into your own hands another’s
you will not be thanked
you will not be honored
you will not be glorified
you will be vilified and left
once again, kind sir, let me return this knife
plunged deeply into the kindness of my do-gooder heart
take it with my blessing
should you care, bless it into your own cold
cold
heart
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4 thoughts on “The Knife

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