Just a poem.
A Piece of Advice
An eye for an eye
the Bible says –
just one of its vague suggestions on
how to best love
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.
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.