Knife sharpeners, Balmain – Kate Waterhouse

They arrive curb side
in the afternoon
on a pair of motorcycles
tool boxes welded custom
each helmet hung on wing mirror
jacket slung
leather boots and aprons
a grindstone
a polishing stone
clatter of the bike’s fan belt
each man waving a blade across spinning stone
smoothe strokes, deft metal
surfaces throwing the light
they move in time
the sweep the glide
an axe
gardening shears
a bucket of knives
stopping once in a while
to point out a passer by of note
Chekov the homeless man 
the owner of that restaurant
a bus lumbers down Darling Street
cars, cars and cars
the sweep and glide
knives throwing the light
and out of the shops and laneways
their owners come.