Just a poem.

 

 

A Piece of Advice

 

I)

 

An eye for an eye

the Bible says –

just one of its vague suggestions on

how to best love

your neighbor.

 

 

II)

 

But you never listen to

what others try to tell you

(because no one listens to you either,

and when was the last time you‘ve seen

any of your neighbors, really?)

 

so instead of taking the knife

to cut a large X into his thorax (and then hers),

deep into the soft, warm flesh and

muscles, arteries, valves,

11 ounces: a secret maze

 

butchered and all the secrets shed

on the cold, tiled slaughterhouse floor.

 

 

III)

 

You dig deep down into

your own chest:

nausea, lethargy, dehydration, a tremor

(11 shots of vodka or what was it again?),

a severe case.

 

And you, the lamb of

a god who’s never read the Bible

and hands out hamburgers and beer for communion,

lie on the cold bathroom floor,

split open like rotten fruit

 

dreaming of bible verses smudged against

the stark break of day, scribbles on the tiled

slaughterhouse floor: grant us peace.