Her flesh bled black
and red, raw, singed scraps
of meat for me
and you
sit smug and smile down
at the heaps of heads
and parts that once had names
but now they all just look the same
the pre-packed, preserved
flanks from the farms
to the plants
to the grocer
getting grosser and more vile,
defiled as she was
beaten to the ground
to the point of being perverse
do you know, by the way,
what it was you just ate—
the barbecued back
of a plump, pink pig
or the rosy-cheeked ass
of your daughter…
LocoCow
What an ending,,, Quite a thought…
pinkyjain
So brilliant Lorie, such a stunning message, especially that last two lines
Crockpot
Thanks Loco and Pinky. I’m sure I’ll get some flack from people over those last two lines, but that’s just how I see things…