Stop talking

poem: i could just eat you up

i could just eat you up

Do it.
Eat me.
Drink me.
Take the knife and carve me like a Sunday roast,
Sear hot fillet of bicep and tricep on the griddle,
Split my ribs and grill a rack of them on the bar    be     que
Have liver and onion pie - my liver, nature’s onions -
rich and thick, just how            mama                 used to make it

Slow bake me in foil and serve sweet tender breast meat
  with crispy skin and clear juices running from searing flesh,

Boil my bones in foaming water spiked with sage and onion,
Make a gravy to pour across thin slices of belly meat,
Brains are a delicacy,
don’t let mine go to waste,
serve with olives,
fresh out of the skull and parboiled,

Make me into your dinner,

your lunch,

your leftovers,

your back of the freezer emergency meals

for when your parents come over.

We’re all just animals -
meat and
flesh and
bones and
taste and
flavour and

you could just eat me up.
Do it.

(Originally submitted for assessment at Bangor University, School of Creative Writing, under the name Rebecca Rayner, but now extended and posted for personal entertainment.)
  • Current Location: Bangor, Wales
  • Current Mood: Slighty warm for once
  • Current Music: Nothing
i love all the raw imagery in this. it's just so wrong that it's right.