Eating Men

My sheath is made of leather.
I am a woman.
I am a knife.

Tonight I will dine
on an industrial
Dynasty,
eating in the workspace
of men –
Eating men.

Iron rising from my pulse
To the air
I see my doppelganger –
The pregnant cat
Luring the mouse.

This is part of my project to write poems that pair with colors and textures, or the other way around.

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