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
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
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