Marinated Chops

Oh, God!

I woke up sizzling!
Left rear range,

chopped up,
marinated and lubricated,

giant
hands of circumstance
thrashing
me around gridiron with prickly
fingered sticks,

boneless.

Without hands to reach out
to the other pieces
frying,
roasting inches away from me.

Skinless.
Heartless.
Helpless.
Hopeless.

Left lonely with chunks of
thick bloody substance that
I was delivered with,

the delicate meat
that
made me whole,

without a mouth to
vocalize
my own company.

I miss them already!

The heat is getting heavy, I have
been left
simmering
since
sun progression – damn light!

Waking me up
to this!

 

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6 thoughts on “Marinated Chops

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