Next to my penknife the magnifying
Glass, whose handle stuck out of the
Back pocket of my Wranglers, was
My favorite provision for exploring
The woods behind our stone house
Neighborhood where I was a child.
I had ogled the knife for months with
Its grooved black wood handle, two
Blades, a nail file and a screwdriver in
The glass case with the lessor knives at
Monterey Hardware, until I finally saved
The eight dollars and fifty-fifty cents.
The knife cut the coiled rope, clipped to
My belt loop, I used to scale the dirt hill
Like a cowboy would, hand-over-hand,
When I was the freckly redheaded girl
Who arrived home tired and late in
Filthy blue jeans with ripped out knees.