She blinked to life, thousands
of years after
assembly line production, after
standard-issue sharpening.
Born and bred to slice and dice,
she was one of many,
taught since her tentative birth to
obey
and obey
and obey
All smooth lines and navy perfection,
the razor edge will have
no tolerance for anything other
than obedience.
She shivered in the veil of summer,
a glint of steel in
shadows
darker than night.
She sang in the winds of autumn,
sharpening her blade on maple
leaves
red as blood.
She froze in the harsh bitter cold of winter,
blade dulled
moves truncated
cracking along the edge like
the wood of the handle that earthed her
to this world.
In spring, life spread and death fled,
and she emerged,
sharp and ready
to operate.