Making the Meat

This animal leathery in its hide,
snuffling in mud, noisy at dawn.

This animal tusked and gloved, trotting
the gravel path, yellowing snout to the wind.

This animal with its hide singed, turned in-
side out like a purse, entrails laid on the grass.

This animal turned on a spit, guttered
in fat, torched to a sheen.

This animal’s meat in your mouth
rank as ripe heat, full as a teat.

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