Not just for sugarcane anymore

The top third of the edge is marred with rust.
The smallest notch interrupted the sheen
of light being rejected and sent back
stories of metal slabs turning life to dust.

It enables a great deal of action.
Preening imperialists have before
momentously followed
through hacked up vines
and bodies
(looking for all the world like a print from Inferno)
and filled in the holes they made
with blood and whiskey.

Weapons are interesting
because they all appear
to be
exactly what they are.
This is not a condemnation
of those with a flair
towards
a dissembling life,
but
weapons have
after all
maintained
a strong projection of integrity
in the face of certain
discredited
“women’s” thinkers
who have many times
noted
the passing resemblance
of knife and blade
and slashing sword
to one of the portions
of male anatomy
that seems to offend
well-meaning souls
the most.

It is
perhaps
not intended to be taken
as an actual argument.
After all,
if we thought that
arms of war
fashioned in the manner
of steeled tulip bulbs
would efficiently kill others,
it produces no doubt
that these new terrors
would fast be as
ego stroking
as skyscrapers
have been said to be.