The Plastic Bag Game – a poem
I close my eyes and wait for the torture to end short of breath, I’m still alive. How long did I hold it for? A minute, a year. Another raw meat meal.
I close my eyes and wait for the torture to end short of breath, I’m still alive. How long did I hold it for? A minute, a year. Another raw meat meal.
You can stew the fire along at night but I’m fine, really I’m fine with my blanket around my head smelling my meat breath
There’s room enough in the bed for me ladies there is no need to fight for me ladies there’s room enough in bed for me ladies but please, let me lift the sheets ladies
the M is for moe-dacious the E is for eating the A is for appetite the T is for treating
breakoutthemeatstick break out the meat
the sounds inside with the lightning close a crack my blanket too far the bathroom rug a comfort from the sounds i shake not from fear but because i feel the tremble of the trees in the rain
heat they say the body only takes so much the moisture on my lips part sweat part meat heat what’s to say but the phantom of my junk hangs in a puddle on the floor next to the meat bowl
i fall sometimesinto the vacant spacethat place in the bedwhere we layat nightbefore boytakes me awaybefore boyfeeds me meat
your eternal spiritmoves swiftlike ridgeson the hunt to prowl aroundone last timeon your porchwhere you taught me to romptrack fliesand scare childreninto thinking i was as meanas my looksand not justa puppy inside Dedicated to my grandma, Kinley, whose spirit ascended from this rock over the rainbow bridge. I’ll be seeing you again and again….Satch
My bowl is packedwith raw meat goodnessThankfullyI ended upin this home