I thought gosh is that true?
after all my last three poems were about
grasshoppers a waterfall and a mango tree
maybe they have gotten too
vegetarian soup and consommé
1st courses which slide down easy
nutritionally sound but lacking
satisfaction nothing that hits the spot
or teeth can sink into
poetic meat is just that
the best cuts of emotion cooked
a thousand different ways right?
yesterday saw something bleeding
and never pursued but remember
where it was last so maybe I’ll go back
with my penknife and some paper
to wrap it in have this poet over
prepare it some new way
serve it without any distracting
side dishes or dessert and listen
to his comment as he leaves
maybe I should leave farming
behind and become a hunter
or what a mercenary?
I could get some excellent
off-the-grid kills with that career
mount trophy poems all over the house
but all sarcasm aside
it wouldn’t hurt me to add
a little beef to the broth
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