Dreamt of forcing politeness and eating
human flesh served at a dinner party.
We sat at tables looking our finest,
eating slow, my stomach and the knowledge
Taught to me in my crib fighting each bite.
That flesh continued haunting the inside
of my eyelids-- this was not my war; this
was not my struggle; this should never have
been my battle. Yet I see it in my
news, my tables, my tabloids, my back-alleys
and I-- I'm helpless, unable to move.