grass fed

i ate with my hands. got the good fork
& stuck it into the lawn. they say
some animals eat better than others. 
a spoonful of powered milk. boiled onions
from the cemetery in our yard. 
the fields around us grow feed corn. hard 
kernels like piano keys for a tiny god. 
once i bit into one. a stolen fruit. 
my father scolded me. he said, "we do not take
from the fields that are not ours." 
i watch a video of a farmer feeding his chickens' eggs
back to them. the farmer says, "this is so they don't go
to waste." i wish i could devour
the planets that rise from my body. 
instead, i sell them. coins & bobble heads.
sweet feed from a sky hand. i call my goats
back from their night of tree feasting. 
they tell me, "i have seen hunger & it is velvet."
a news article says, "the food pantry shelves
are empty." in the comments there are people
laughing with bellies full of shells & bones.
i have not looked at meat in supermarkets 
or butcher shops for years. today i do.
it is not out of reverence. i am curious.
how do we talk about bodies? grass-fed. 
ground beef. the mouth is the naming limb. 
i open mine. place grass seeds on my tongue.
the field begins to sprout. wildflowers too.
tonight, we pull down the stars like
cups of water. all creatures are designed
to fill that which is empty. 
i pour moths into my lungs. the chickens 
scratch the earth for keys.