Friday, December 04, 2015

The Running Red


Will you ever feel comfortable knowing you live
among cannibals?
If "You are what you eat," were you always there, waiting in cages
to be eaten?
How far back do you go: before the first suckle, after the leaf
made life from sun, rock, water, and air?
Who are you now, who will you be, once the running red flows at your last meal
down the shin of the last host, and you, ever-always you,
slide hungrily by this world's last teeth?

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