DetailsThe poem, its numbers, and the conversation.

Butcher

Member since 2002 · Posted 21 Aug 2002 · 8 comments

No: you were dead And that was an end. Gloved like a surgeon I can fillet a pig In minutes, the bristles Of hair giving grip And the fat giving way To the knife's low wit. That is death And that is the end. When shoppers come in I smile and incline My head to one side And show them the shine On a side of lamb And the rub of the rind. That is food And that is death's end. And so you were dead And finished and done. I smile with my head On one side and the sun Splashes a loin And again you are gone.

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mean 6.30 weighted 5.65 rank 2117 views 274 View voting details →

10 votes so far. Yours would make 11.10 votes so far

A favorite of god'swife.

8 comments

[7] Lenore 21-Aug-02/9:57 AM Reply

This reminds me, Butchers give me the creeps. hmmmmmm

[10] god'swife 22-Aug-02/9:25 AM Reply

May I print this and hang it up in my kitchen? It's has such prettiness to it. Hair giving grip, fat giving way, knife's low wit. I wish I knew how to write. No matter gentlemen like you make it a pleaser just to read 10/10

[10] god'swife 22-Aug-02/9:26 AM Reply

that's pleasure, not pleaser. I'm the pleaser, well half the time.

[n/a] Christof 23-Aug-02/1:01 AM Reply

Hey, print it out for your kitchen wall with my blessing! That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said about my stuff so consider it yours.

[10] god'swife 23-Aug-02/2:00 AM Reply

Venom mitigated. I am all lovely muted hopefulness. Thanks for the poem.

[n/a] Bachus 23-Aug-02/2:46 AM Reply

he... children of modern night...dontcha know heart ache andv he heartAS COLD i HAVE NO SHIONE FOR YOU DRUEL...DRUEL

[7] searching 25-Sep-02/1:19 PM Reply

I only wish I could paint my world with this "black and white" brush. I love the finality.

[9] horus8 16-Jun-03/2:52 PM Reply

You are unstoppable, you are a master!