Alone in the family kitchen
butcher and son lean over the sink,
the boy’s chin on his elbows,
eyes on his father’s rhythmic stroke
of the blade, side over side up and down
the length of the sharpening steel,
tracing the edge with his thumb,
warning “Don’t you do this — not yet,”
not knowing the boy would not have dared
for fear of slicing himself and seeing the blood
squirt into the air or hearing his father
shout at him for not knowing about
the dual nature of knives,
the unforeseen consequences of being dull
Knowing now to swipe the blade precisely,
hold its honed sharpness from the sharpener,
the boy knows by his father’s grunt he has pleased him,
a son who will know how to keep his knives sharp