The Meat

What the men taste they cannot fear.


They have tasted elk and boar and bison and beast.
The skin of the beast turns crispy over the fire.
Its bones, whittled down, make remarkable tie pins.


And the women with their fruit fill their arms with color. Their
fingers have turned black with the dye. Their teeth are always dark,
their mouths exaggerated with stains.


On a rock there is a creature with the face of a man.
It will not die, even when they pull their fingers through its flesh.


This is how we began to devour our enemies raw and wriggling.


It takes time to become accustomed to the way the food feels, 
moving on the tongue and down the throat.


It is a prized delicacy in some parts of the world.
They will charge you just for sitting at the table 
even if you change your mind and opt for the tenderloin. 
The wine is the best in the world -- smell that bouquet.


The men and women drink the wine and eat the meat.


There is nothing more satisfying than this.