Sitting and sweating out
Last night’s beer dinner
In the ivory kitchen
A film of mist on the window
But out, it is not raining
He towers over the wet, seasoned
Carcass,
Arms curled around the two
Pieces of metal, one sliver of moonlight
One silver wand, a stand ceremony:
The sharpening of the blade.
They move together, the sharp
Shuck tells of the yawning bite and
It is ready to carve and he moves
It deep into the meat, white flesh
Falls off bone like the slip of a blouse
8 hungry eyes agape with each sculpting
Caress,
The master craftsman, his jaw set –
Locked as he dissects the Sunday
Afternoon
