High Carbon

I sharpen my grandfather's knife
carefully
after scrubbing away decades of dirt

I sharpen my grandfather's knife
the dimond plate drawing away at 45 degrees
the fibers eventually standing
short and furry
uniform on the edge
like the stubble of a lethal beard.

I sharpen my grandfather's knife
I think about what needs to be done
about those I love
about biology and time and the relentless press of life
about how little boys throw leaves
over one side a bridge
and race to see them come out the other.
I think about the leaves
at the mercy of the current
and of the little boys who delight in throwing them.

I sharpen my grandfather's knife
carefully
and return it to the wall
glimmering dully where once there was rust.