Kitchen Fable

The fork lived with the knife and found it hard — for years took nicks and scratches, not to mention cuts. She who took tedium by the ears: nonforthcoming pickles, defiant stretched-out lettuce, sauce-gooed particles. He who came down whack. His conversation, even, edged. Lying beside him in the drawer she formed a crazy patina. The seasons stacked — melons, succeeded by cured pork. He dulled; he was a dull knife, while she was, after all, a fork.