HAUNCH

These days

I repulse me,

emptied

of purpose.

FLANK

To put something in

to take something out,

to perform the motions

in a cycle for all time:

to be needed, loved.

BREAST

Only the wretched

found themselves

at my door,

so wet and various.

All who entered me

left changed, renewed.

CHUCK

What believers know

as transubstantiation,

in the industry we call

processing. The way I moved

spirit into matter, faster

than wafer dissolves

on the tongue.

RIB

We learnt to place a kindly hand

for the sake of flavour, knowing

adrenaline toughens

the product, brought to tears

by our own humaneness.

MINCED

My best years were spent

labouring in the shadows,

wrenching sustenance

from spirit, prying animal

sounds that would pierce

your sleep, mock

your pristine shirt sleeves.

SHANK

My bosses turned their backs

on their own doing, able to

side-step their appetite.

I kept their hands clean, gave

my best years, my jaws.

OFFCUTS

So much moved

through me… Now find myself

slipping into the surprise trapdoor

of my own heartache. All my toil,

for what?

LOIN

These days, the ones

who enter me marvel,

I overhear them saying things

like: art is so reparative.

Instead of a meat locker

there’s an installation,

a vibe.

PLATE

Let it be known

I am still here, I flake

my arsenic paint into human hair,

as the beautiful throw their heads back,

laughing at the vernissage.