Fresh Kill w. Dianne

Dianne drew near me in supplication
enfolded soldier in cufflinks and
war time souvenirs
steer me past that plate of warm spaghetti
silver spoon and
spatula capture tendrils of my beaten flesh
tongue wet ropes tight turns on the slick trail
treat me clean
turkey meat drumstick human inner ear
close your eyes listening to

her labored breathing
she's in rut
Dianne mean means to hurt you
froth foaming over her jagged teeth
spittle like tossed semen across rusted twists
drink of the wealth of life
of the chances given
and not of those missed
let her finger never

find your sweltering den
uncoiled serpent shriveled
Dianne whispers bold statements to
stay my wayward clinging
long-legged puppet climbing the curved
crevasse of her inner thigh
deerskin jacket thrown wide like an
eagle's soaring wings

another skinning
the deer's guts at the bottom of a black pit
grandsire's lost soul spinning in his grave
to know that the grey coat once adorned noble
over the stag's shoulders was
ripped willy-nilly from that bone and meat
not with the carving knife
but by my very own teeth.

TA