Knife Thrower in the School Holidays

You show her your dad’s bone handled knife:
he’ll never miss it you say,
it was stuck in an old log in the garden shed;

stand a little way off you tell her
and open your legs wide;
why? she answers
just standing there all dumb
and lovely at the same time.

To leave more space for the knife
to stick into the ground
you say;
don’t want any mistakes
at this stage of the game
do we?

She hitches up
her blue-check gingham dress
and does a star jump,
bare legs brown from the sun
stem of grass clamped
between her teeth.

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