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Straight Razor

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He slid the stiff blade up to my ear:
Oh, fear,

this should have been thirst, a cheapening act.
But I lacked,

as usual, the crucial disbelief. Sticky, cold,
a billfold

wet in my mouth, wrists bound by his belt,
I felt

like the boy in a briny night pool, he who found
the drowned

body, yet still somehow swam with an unknown joy.
That boy.


Source: Poetry (April 2010)

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This poem originally appeared in the April 2010 issue of Poetry magazine

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Straight Razor

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