Knife
I’d like a knife, small enough
to pocket. If you could find
a pretty one I’d appreciate it.
Shallowness I prize most of all.
Sorry if this is dark. I’m not good
at being profound, but I’m quite good
at silence and mood-killing. I suppose
I’ll be even better at that soon.
Bring a knife with a steel blade,
bring a knife that’s light in hand,
bring a knife with an edge I can’t see –
I think that will make it easier.
So this is just so you know.
I’m reducing myself – the cut
in the crook of my arm is a seam.
I wish I’d learnt to sew.
I suppose it isn’t too late.
Late Autumn and the light’s
taking me with it. I might
be back by early Spring,
in those early buds blessed
suddenly by frost. I am a clutch
of ghosts, waiting to happen.
Imogen Cassels is from Sheffield, and currently studies English at university. She was a Foyle Young Poet of the Year in 2013, and Commended in 2011/2012. Her work features in the Cadaverine Collection, Black & BLUE, Far Off Places and Cadaverine.