I JUST WANT TO ENJOY DINNER WITH MY WIFE BUT THE METAPHOR IN MY BACKYARD KEEPS TRYING TO EAT US
There is a man fertilizing
The garden bed beyond the hedges.
There is a man fertilizing
Sodden leafed poppies with narcotic slick,
Where we no longer pick the tomatoes
But press his fingertips
Back beneath the earth.
We didn’t do this to him.
His hunger did this to him.
Cavernous belly split spilling
Lust like locusts, sunk their little jaws
Into the junction of our necks and spine
Until my beloved-
Darling, dearest girl-
Hefted our oldest shovel and said well
If he’s not gonna use what god blessed him with-
Slammed it into his hunger
And went inside for supper.
Lemongrass chicken never tasted
So sweet.
He came back the next day,
Jaw lolling eyes rolling stomach
Dragging loose between his legs-
Can you believe the news
Is calling him the postmodern prometheus?
I say to her,
Holding him back with a broom handle.
She snorts inelegantly
And finds me my shotgun.
It's almost affection,
What the three of us have.
I carve carrots into curling bright flowers,
She picks mint to offset the steak
He decides he’s finished rotting
And comes to get shot in the face.
It's a perilous pattern to vicious effect:
Eat, fuck, tumble and tuck
That bloated corpse back to garden bed
Hope it's enough, hope maybe tomorrow
He’ll stay there, he’ll rest.