To pull the metal splinter from my palm
my father recited a story in a low voice. My father recited a story in a low voice.
I watched his lovely face and not the blade. I watched his lovely but no longer handsome face
Before the story ended, he'd removedBefore the story ended, he'd removed He moved away
the iron sliver I thought I'd die from.
I can't remember the tale, I can't remember This story
but hear his voice still, a well
of dark water, a prayer. A paladin's prayer of black water< /p>
And I recall his hands, I remember his hands
two measures of tenderness
he laid against my face, he faced me
The flames of discipline
he raised above my head. He cultivated my intelligence
Had you entered that afternoon Already entering that afternoon?
you would have thought you saw a man
planting something in a boy's palm, planting something in a boy's palm
a silver tear, a tiny flame. A clear and pleasant sound of tearing, a tiny flame of passion,
Had you followed that boy?
you would have arrived here,
where I bend over my wife's right hand.
< p>Look how I shave her thumbnail downso carefully she feels no pain.Watch as I lift the splinter out. Watch me lift this splinter
I was seven when my father I was seven, my father
took my hand like this, holding my hand The hand was like this
and I did not hold that shard
between my fingers and think,
p>
Metal that will bury me, metal is going to bury me
christen it Little Assassin, the first time to use it small. Assassin
Ore Going Deep for My Heart. Mine The sand penetrated deeply into my heart
And I did not lift up my wound and cry, and I could not lift up my wound and cried
Death visited here! Death visited here! arrive!
I did what a child does
when he's given something to keep. When he's given something to keep.
I kissed my father. I kissed my father