This is the first poem I have written since high school, and they have all been very bad.
O Chef’s Knife,
If at first entranced by your gentle waves,
I am immediately impressed
With your keen blade
As it glides with my hand through the layers of an onion,
Too quick to make me cry
Or how confidently your sharpened edge
Slices through a ripe tomato
Skins the eyes that surround sweet pineapple flesh
Chiffonades a thick roll of greens
I must respect
Your superiority
And keep watch over fingertips
Else betray my competent façade
Add to my collection of scars
Every day you stand between me and a meal
And every time I’m grateful
Every day you’re up for the task