I wish I could use a cutlery knife properly,

It’s a problem with roots in childhood.

A life-skill overlooked, one not taught.

Although, I see my mother reading this

And exclaiming, ‘Yes I jolly well did!’

“If you did Ma, I forgot how to,

Somewhere along the way.”


I think about this occasionally, when eating

And only then, do I move the knife

In a sawing motion.

But usually, I use the knife as a tool

To tear the food apart,

Employing a fork to pin down the toast

(For example),

Held in place on the plate.


I feel like a savage

Or an ill-educated poor kid,

When awareness strikes,

Which now and then, it does.

It’s a habit and a behaviour

Hard to re-programme,

Even when given a steak-knife.

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