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
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.