Wandering around the market,
Full of nothing and lacking
The kind of humanity I used to have.
My eye caught by the red-pink
Of the raw meat in a glass case.

I found myself staring at it,
Almost a familiar sight.
Thinking nothing of it at all,
I continued staring.
Something about it stuck to me.

The way the white fat ran through
Pink and red muscle tissue.
The big areas of redness struck me,
Slightly jagged and misshapen.
And juice pooling under it.

The animal was given no thought,
Not other than how it served people.
Its body parts were nothing more than dishes,
Ones for the pleasure of the strong to eat.
There were no animals in this market.

Here laid the former cows,
Their parts separated and sorted.
How convenient to be on display,
To be freshly cleaned and wrapped.
No pieces flawed or ruined.

Oh to be a slab of meat,
Nothing of your former self,
Born to die to feed people,
Or thrown out once you've gone bad.
I suppose I am not far from it.

I bought a rabbit from a feed store
He was raised for meat
But I brought him home
And raised him for me
Not to eat but to keep

Part of me thinks that's just as cruel
Poor unwanted, little thing
Just happy to live in my house
He doesn't have the ability to see
How unnatural our friendship is

I didn't save him
But I didn't eat him
So he just exists without purpose
Kind of like me
I think I was also raised for meat

When dinner becomes a dance,
Standing in the kitchen as the clock strikes 12,
Tomato juice dripping to my elbows
Spices spilled over vegetables raw in my hands,
The carving knife wet with sauce
Eating fistfuls of my own hunger and joy
Until I reach the end of that deep and driving primal hole
The meat pads my bones
And fills my aching soul
.
And standing for midnight mass
In the holiest place in my home
I catch my glance in the window's gleam
And am introduced to a woman I've only met
In my deepest and sweetest of dreams

More Meet
Eat the meet and feel well
Get a bad gut do the trots
To the toilet ***** it all up
You ate rancid meat
Or was it poisoned

On purpose as you’re here
An invading army doing bad
Nothing good comes from it
Except dead Russian soldiers
Who ate off meat in rusty tins
Found in a bombed out house

Call it karma for the war
You go there you risk
Not just bullets and shells
Maybe you were poisoned
On purpose or it was an accident

The result is the same
Ill Russian soldiers who puke
Some will die painful deaths
Give those well more meat…

my freezer is full
of vegetables and meat
i wonder what to eat

snare is sprung
flesh from the forrest fruit
the humming drum
         of its fright
an untamed meat
          struggles like the life
wirey noose tightly
wrist hook and thumb
ridden to bone
energy shrugged
        in fits of the struggle
defeat
     and then the meat
        is untenanted

Don’t throw me in the meat locker
It’s dark and cold in there
Don’t cover me up in plastic
For I will have no air

Don’t cut me into pieces
For I’m not yours to sell
Don’t send me in and shut the door
It’s dark and cold as hell

I could never put into words until now
the warm sensation of menstrual blood trickling down my hand
or the smell of dried blood stuck to public hair
and how every time I walked passed the butchers or deli department at the local grocery store
I could recognize the smell of blood dripping from tissue left on white sheets displaying the cuts of meat
sheets the same color as the toilet paper I use every month
to examine the clumps of the ****** that flow downwards
to be born life-less much like a flank stake behind the glass case