Dull Little Knife - NaPoWriMo Day 12

Prompt:  Write a poem about a dull thing that you own, and why (and how) you love it. 

Dull Little Knife

I have a little knife
I keep in the knife drawer
It used to cut a lot of things
But doesn't any more.

Oh, I could slide it down a steel
Or draw it over a stone;
I was taught to sharpen knives
To cut through meat and bone

Or a hundred chicken livers
Hiding connective tissue strands;
Berta taught me to find and detach them
Despite how cold my hands

Were searching for livers in ice cold water
In the Temple kitchen sink.
She was pleased with my knife skills
And liver cleaning, I think

For each week when I got to work
I was grossed out to see
That while others iced cakes and stuffed dumplings
The livers were left for me.

"You do it so well! We hope you don't mind."
And I'd smile and do it despite
How offensive the task
Because I knew at the end of the night

We'd feast on leftover brisket and kugel,
Thick slices of challah with honey,
Apple cake and even chopped liver with schmaltz - 
You see, this job was more than just money

For the poor English graduate students
Who worked on this catering crew;
Berta taught history, theology, cookery -
She was so proud of being a Jew

That we left Temple Israel each night - 
Feasting and cleaning complete - 
Wishing that we were Jewish, too,
Not just for the good things to eat.

And what of that dull little knife
That remains in the back of the drawer?
It led to this chicken liver remembering poem -
Maybe not so dull any more.