slaughterer’s hook

Just a draft…

Slaughterer’s Hook

Slip the cold metal in
and crank the lever
on the rib spreaders.  Draw me
open like the chicken, the cow

the sow on the slaughterer’s hook.
Obliging, I’ll help you scoop
out my innards, I’ll coil intestine
while you delicately pull.  My stomach

is still full of you, and you know
how I hate to hold anything
that belongs to someone
else.  Mail me to yourself

piece by piece, like a private
sending himself a jeep home
from war.  What fun is it
my dear, without the fight? 

You’ve experience, an obviously
practiced expert.  In this you aren’t
my first, I’ve been drawn
and quartered before.  By Africa,

by oil, by the poor waiting for
their checks to come
when you’ve stolen them from
the mailman.  We’re back to him 

again, does he know you abuse
him so?  I’ve only questions today,
and no answers.  I’ve given you
all the answers I had and most

of the questions,
too.  In bed, you told me
my skin was so warm, so warm,
how warm now that you’re elbow

deep in my carcass, filling
what’s left with sand, sewing
me up, and pushing me into the street
failing to balance, to tip over.


Filed under lust and love, Musings, poetry

2 responses to “slaughterer’s hook

  1. Pingback: Of the Body « So you think I can

  2. Pingback: The Cardeologist « So you think I can

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