Raw is the word of the day. Got it kids?
Kids, what’s raw? Roiling mass of grabby skyward hands.
What’s meat? What’s vegetables?
What’s vulnerability? What’s red and broken and softly, wetish pink?
That thing you feel and touch but mostly feel.
It’s edges and rough. It’s war spelled backwards.
Pummeled hearts and purple kidneys aren’t cooked. They’re raw.
That dusty light that filters, spectral and beyond any grasp.
What’s the sinews of the world?
Raw is blue and pink and red
And coarse and irregular and lovely.
The loveliest sort of striking