A Knife

She grips the knife with cold fingers
And tries to carve the stone
Force it to say what she wants
What she’s always wanted but always choked back
Held back and under her tongue to moulder
And rot in her mouth and turn black as the sky at night
Her eyes are stars reflecting in the cold ocean surface
Still and sharp as stone
And she spits the blackened words into the sea
And they sink to the bottom
Where the sun might never touch them