placing my fingers on my sternum,
I crack myself open,
a fresh orange,
sweet juice dripping down my fingers.

She is a good butcher

The knife steady in her hand,

Although she’s never quite gotten the knack

For hacking in one swing.

Tried once and hit bone – elicited screams.


Prefers instead to slice carefully

Weighs each cut of the knife

Watches the blood well up

Saliva pooling in response.


His pretty little ears she nibbles on

Followed by his lips she samples at every moment

Even his nose she presses kisses to.


There’s so little fat to him

Just how she likes.

When she gets too hungry to wait

Sinks her teeth into the definition of his pectoral

Rips away the muscle chewing gleefully.


He is a rich source of protein

Her body has been craving.

Finds what is so often boasted between the legs of men

no delicacy at all as some treat it.


Loves to lap at his iliac crests

Wear down to his bones and crack them between her teeth

**** the slick, nutritious marrow.


Finds a certain contentment

In the consuming focus

The preoccupation of her hands, mind, and mouth.

You talk about your past lovers like cuts of meat;
The ******* on this one, the thick thighs on that one, the firm *** on the other.
You call them Chicken, Cow, Pig.
You call me Dear.

I walk into your abattoir  of my own accord
and tie myself to the gambrel,
ask you to slaughter me, please, slaughter me.
Always the slaughterer, never the slaughtered,
I want to know what it feels like.

You do as I ask: strip away my skin, slice open my chest, remove my vital organs.
You have to separate my consciousness
from my carcass
to finish.

I am venison, fresh.
You mount my head on your wall
next to the others and
shut my eyes.

Steel seams once welded
safety torn and matted
scattered among the blood

I waited, perched
facing the pound
silhouettes of people dance

Lights of blue flash next to red
hurried bodies take in the flesh
torn and matted among the blood

Pebbles tossed create ripples
one action has lingered effects
silhouettes and shadows dance

As I wait,
uniforms investigate, the damage
the glass shards mingle among ****** hair
the scent of burning floats aware

I turn to the breeze
Imaging your hair twined to the wind, dancing
I wait for your embrace
but you never came