Peter Lewin
The Knife
Yesterday my dad and his ladyfriend
were running and swinging me across fields.
Both very happy, making me laugh:
Today she gave me this knife.
The best I’ve seen:
neat stitching round the sheath,
the smell of new leather,
I fasten the sheath to my snake-belt,
slide the knife in, press its stud.
Slap my sides, run all the way home
The kitchen door’s open.
I see my mum making jam,
smell blackcurrants, sugar, lemon.
I run through, do a somersault,
land in front of her.
Smiling I pull the knife out.
Tell her who’s given it me.
She’s no right to give it to you
...no right...no right at all
she knows... she knows
what she’s doing. That hussie!
Page(s) 113
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