Friday, February 9, 2018

Day 40.

The Butcher's Daughter.

I watched him from behind the counter
Mortified. Disgusted. Riveted.
He was so at ease, at home with it all,
No matter how much blood
No matter how awful the smell.
I watched in awe as he
Cut and chopped, filleted and deboned.
A dance.
I watched slabs of meat sway on their hooks
when he walked past.
We were never hungry then.
at

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