Bits of dried meat
wedged, firm, between my teeth.
Tongue: persevering explorer — you work hard for nothing.
Shredded flesh, salty and chewy
a trophy from my vulgar meal
the reduction of muscle and vein, instinct and action
into corporeal pleasure,
gnashed by molars.
Soft tissue, un-swallowed
Foreign and conspicuous in this white, sharp-edged cavern.
Such a small reminder of animal self.
Of my ability to consume without thought.
Instinct, maybe.
A carnivorous inclination, hard-wired.
Blood bond with cavewoman.
A rope of fat and sinew
braided tight to withstand conscience.
+++
From subTerrain #69 (Meat)