There, There Elliott

A pair of walking scissors,
razor point,
needle sharp,
sharp as nails,
hard as a fox.
These things could cut
diamond edges.
So they made light work of the living leather
upon which they chose to stroll.
But soon their evening constitutional,
for it was in the night,
these things are always in the night,
turned to a paddle
to a swim
to a dive
but lacking the will
and the little ships, all red and white, being too small to carry them
the twin mirrors, bolted lovers, plunged too deep.
No need to go down a third time they sank
and drowned themselves in blood
and never came back up
until, hours later, the paramedics arrived.
But by then
it was too late.