Town of the Sound of a Twig Breaking | A poem by Anne Carson, 1995

Andy Warhol, Knives, 1981

Their faces I thought were knives.
The way they pointed them at me.
And waited.
A hunter is someone who listens.
So hard to his prey it pulls the weapon.
Out of his hand and impales.
Itself.

Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays and Poetry, 1995