A Knife - Nadja

She grips the knife with cold fingers

And tries to carve the stone

Force it to say what she wants

What she’s always wanted but always choked back

Held back and under her tongue to moulder

And rot in her mouth and turn black as the sky at night

Her eyes are stars reflecting in the cold ocean surface

Still and sharp as stone

And she spits the blackened words into the sea

And they sink to the bottom

Where the sun might never touch them