the smell of blood at my door it must be the 14th for it is then that i see what it is
moe’s meats a business i began forever ago so i may never be without who knew
there comes a time in a ridge’s life when he says yes i am happy
hungry i sit waiting for my meat to simmer in the bowl hungry i sit watching woman watching woman watching woman hungry i sit like a good boy waiting for my meat
i fall sometimes into the vacant space that place in the bed where we lay at night before boy takes me away before boy feeds me meat Repeated by popular demand
Memories fade the way bones bleach in the sun I stack them one by one in the corners of what I used to wear There, my meat blanket stained with the joy of marrow by the fire
the puppies were nestled all eight in a bed with visions of raw meat up in their head down through the chimney white paws and a tale was the ridgeback Satcha Claus dragging a pail all full of jiblets and giblets and cream the puppies were hungry they started to scream on beef heart, on chicken … Read more
The sound of Woman’s fork down on the plate. I wait, patient on my haunch. What’s left to finish in time is mine.