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Love Letter to the Butcher

By James Ambrose

Editor's Note: Due to the formatting of this poem, it is best enjoyed on desktop.

dinner goes cold in the kitchen

but here,

I’m warm to the touch & giddy

for the slaughter,

the one you make look like heaven

because for you for me

it is the highest honor

you carve into me with all the gentleness of a lullaby—

I love it, I love you

because you love me this way; but if

that’s selfish,

let my meat fall from my bones

and feed you for weeks.

how much of me can you stomach?

show me, let me watch

masticate this body, baby please

take your precious time with me,

promise I’m not going anywhere

don’t hesitate, take it all: every rib & finger bone

have my heart, my lungs too

they have no use where I'm going

if I am to die—surely I am— let it be by your hands.

I love you, I’ll say it again, I love you

through every tender bite

chewed until I’m stuck between your teeth

flesh clinging to bone

begging for consumption, domestication by digestion.


James Ambrose is an agender poet and writer of all things weird, queer, and macabre. He is a professional college drop-out and can now be found roaming the valleys of Virginia. His words have found homes in Vast Chasm Magazine, with more forthcoming. Watch him descend into madness on Twitter @caninebrainz


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