In the Kitchen

We have conditioned our housewives for destruction.
Go back a half-century to the years
when we ****** them into too-tight aprons
made them short of breath just to show
the peach curves of their bodies,
We only saw them as luscious fruit
covered in black, black lace.

Consider the vicious clawing required
to grate the aged cheddar into thin slits
the hard grip around the edge of your fork
when you stab straight into the sweet potato
over & over again.
the crazed knife dance right into
the heart, the bulb of the onion,
the juice, the blood from the lamb chops
splattering all over the kitchen floor.

They are an army in training.
Listen as they sharpen their knives, the sound dark & sweet.
Where are they going?