The Blade

THE BLADE

The blade thrusted through the air
At speed it grows closer
Contact is made
Resistance met at the point
As the skin indents and stretches
It finally gives way
Now the knife plunges into the body
Slicing through the skins like soft butter
The smooth sharp edges widening the hole
The point meets little more resistance
As it carves its way into the heart
Blood runs like treacle
Through vibrations
You can feel the heart
THUMP, THUMp …THUmp.…THump…..Thump
Increasingly it slows
Decaying the beat weakens
Until there is nothing
The blade retraces it steps
Withdraws from the open wound
Where there was once life
Now lays a limp body
Covered with a cloth
Cleaned of its ill doing
It is ready once more
The blade

G.J.Smith