stabbing
every day i watch
fun quiz shows on television
and try to answer before the contestants do
one thursday
someone joins me in the common room
i lie on the sofa,
he stares at me,
his eyes throw daggers
a person employed
by the government or some other organization
to secretly obtain confidential information
for a moment
my eyes confirm his existence,
our eye contact is charged with violence
a spy?
the question echoes
vibrates through the room
he picks up the phone
or pretends to
and says
you can bring the knives tomorrow
fear roars out of him
and pours into me,
it melds with my psychosis
and flows back into him
we both sit and tremble,
wanting to skin
each other’s faces
when the show ends,
we run to our rooms