The world has never lacked
for contronyms. One of the earliest
I learned was cleave, as in Now cleave
together as man and wife; and also
what the cook in a restaurant kitchen
window does as he brings down his biggest
cleaver, severing a roast chicken or duck
at its joints. Bolt and buckle; finish,
dust, weather. Look away and the roll
of beautiful silk winds up in the grubby
hands of a merchant who won't pay full
price. Look another way— the light is still
there somewhere, but also the sight of new
horrors that will make your knees go under.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
