steak
i take it, masticate between jaws until temples throb and consternation leaks between teeth, and still the nerve of you there, hard like rock that knows no footfall, memory woken to you but gone the way smoke from flame, chew and chew and chew while throat beseeches relief from the fire valley, and something dies in order to serve so you char the guilt and fat and all semblance of sense from the rebuttals resting on the block, and my mouth should water but my eyes cry over excessive vowels and grill time. a napkin waits not so far away as i nod compliantly, desiring to discard you into linen bowels, but i’m full of sinew and leather and the thought you can kill anything that moves.
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© Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved.
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'From My Front Steps,' 'Scotch and Scars' and 'A Distilled Spirit' poetry collections available in paperback and ebook on Amazon.
