The child
born yesterday
or
the day before
grows quickly
running everywhere
now
blonde curls
down
to her shoulders
she understands
the danger
and does
without question
as she is told
narrowly escaping
with her mother
through
the back door
of the old
polished wood bar
we ran into
as I turn to face
a deranged figure
with curved blades
attached to his fingers
slashing at me
as I jump back
scooping up
a drop cloth
of canvas
from the floor
to snag and tangle
his blades in
when he
rushes at me
again
wrestling him
to the floor
tying his hands
so he cannot move
without cutting himself
to ribbons
a threat put to rest
forever
with an abruptness
that leaves me
triumphant
and disconcerted.
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