Pierce the skewer into me
Place me whole
In the barbeque pit
Turn me over
To sizzle
Veins rupture
Glow a deep pink
As fire burns
Browns me
Bring me out
Juices intact
A smoky scent
Rents the air
Pour the sauce
Over my body
Carve out large chunks
With a serrated knife
Slice a piece
Eat
Lips
Turn crimson with me
You chew slow
And hard
They ask why
It takes so long
I like it rare
You say
Well done, my dear
Half-raw
In your entrails
Though still
I live
It is a price
I have to pay
To be like
Nothing else
You ever ate
Or felt
~FV
9 comments:
Thank God I read this after my fast got over!
Dear anonymous, why don’t you keep your outbursts concise and limit those to postings which are at least political in nature and leave other postings (at least the poems) alone. Thanks.
Hot
blog
yummy, juicy....
I like back stage steaks beter ofcourse welldone, sometimes medium is more tender though....
SM, Tan, Circle:
The last word 'felt' is the denouement...all else is redundant after a while.
BJ:
Thanks.
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