The Knife

In my sleep:
Fell at his feet         wanted to eat him right up
would have         but
even better
he talked to me.

Did I ask you to?
Were those words my blood-sucking too?

Now I will have a body again
move differently, easier         back to the plan
a little house         a woman and a man

crossed against yours my soul will show
glow through my breastbone:
Back down into the kitchen
yours

Here         I will save you
others have failed, even died, but I
will save you         you save me         devour me away
up

Woke up:
I can cry but I can't wake up
today again         don't answer the door
then did         couldn't look at you talk
couldn't place the bed in the room, or where the room was
when I closed my eyes

This is the same old knife         my knife
I know it as well as I know my own mouth
It will be lying there on the desk if

I open my eyes I will know the room very well
there will be the little thrown-out globe of blood we left
and every molecule of every object here will swell
with life. And someone will be at the door.
 
Copyright Credit: Jean Valentine, “The Knife” from Door in the Mountain: New and Collected Poems, 1965-2003. Copyright © 2004 by Jean Valentine. Reprinted with the permission of Wesleyan University Press.
Source: Door in the Mountain: New and Collected Poems 1965-2003 (Wesleyan University Press, 2004)