christmas / flesh

that year the tree was juicy.
i filled its basin with blood
each morning like a good boy.
steam poured from every arm.
meat feathers after a good slow roasting.
forks in our pockets.
i didn't hope for much. we were 
sacrificing for a nice ripe citrus.
gifts in their rinds. prayed to 
the butcher for righteous tender.
felt our arms & the cuts latent in them.
all the knives shivering 
in the drawer. me & the tree
discussed ovens & heat. discussed
damnation & sin. i hoped the tree
would keep my secrets. 
i told him i dreamed of
feasting on boys. opening my mouth
& letting them walk inside me, whole. 
the tree mutter my story
all day long. turned my fears
into apples & cannon-spat them.
bore a hole in the wall 
through which we all took turns
walking out to the backyard
where the bones go. i wanted 
something new. i wanted icing 
or at least a slice. 
everything melted & we wept 
for men. our hooks smiled
in the moon's glint. 
how do you learn to stop wanting love?
i tried to hold each wish
in my throat before they could turn 
tender & fatty. the butcher
knocked on the door with the butt
of his knife. laughed like
a hinge. praying is dangerous.
my brother prayed himself
into a white meat breast.
we filled our socks with sausage.
nothing was warm enough. 
tired of the truth we 
roasted fingers one by one
as a sacrifice. what will you give?
wrapping steaks 
in the backyard with plaid paper.
everyone will be thrilled 
for the surprise. no boys arrived.
not a single one. 

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