Eating Them

Sometimes there is armor on the plate
The animal’s armor is there with it
It is nature’s wit
The colors emblazon on a shell
You go crazy with desire
Which protected the creature
Sometimes there are eyes looking up at you
Hunger is what you stare at
From defeat the aqueous eyes stare
Sometimes
You peel the skin back and then decide to eat it
You don’t see hairs in the skin which would be thorns
The skin is deliciously burnt
By desire and calculation
You lick your fingers
Thorns in the sensibility
Of a creature inside you assaying
The lightness of the things you do
The shame of devouring
What ticks off youth’s clock
But flavor is flavor
Flavor is the port of desire
Hunger lies on the plate of the mind
And it is a dead thing
Until it awakes like a snake on the plate
And it sidles between the flowers
That cover the dining table
Who are also dead
And many of the people dining with you
In fact,  those on either side of you at the table
Are also conveniently dead
They bob as if on vessels and they are
Feeding you and feeding on you
Yet you won’t scream
Because you are so hungry
And this is the right place to sit
So much nourishment is speaking here

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