On eating shepherd’s pie from a plastic takeaway box

Thank you for your flesh
I hope
a prayer was
said for your software
     as the abattoir crashed it
     with an electric bolt,
     unplugged it
     with a blade

Thank you for your muscle
I hope a ritual
farewelled
your memory, the shape
     of mother, two teats,
     woolled udder’s
     press against nose
your process, the way
     your tail felt flicking,
     anus releasing its pebbles,
     heart leaping

I hope you
walked
     on grass
     among trees
     under sun
played, ran, chased,
lay down between warm bodies
     as stars flocked
     above you

Thank you for your membranes
I hope some words were spoken
to lay to rest
your script, the fear of
     dog, horror of ape,
     the vowel rising in your throat,
     the rush to follow the others
your inputs, the shove on your eardrums
     of shouts and motors,
     the force under cloven pointes
     of dirt, concrete, metal grid

When my instructions said eat
     your components were made
     available
Your salt, minerals, proteins
     are turning into
     my marrow
your fats and sugars
     powering
     my motion, my thought,
     my words
You becoming me, I
becoming you

as I sit
     on grass
     among trees
     under sun
licking the fangs of my
     plastic fork

and trying to make a prayer
     for

From A coat of ashes

Like this? Follow my new posts by email:

Privacy policy