Thursday, October 19, 2006

Blue Lips

The horse house bubbled with activity and smells
examples of the newest off-cuts hung from its darkening walls;
it was the heat that made the abattoir air a cycle of flies
and blocked the drain pool with coagulated blood

over time it was abandoned and only the flies remained
to multiply like blackened abacus beads given life
and nearby nauseous vultures screeched nervously like violinists
too afraid to enter the black maggot doorway

the stench – the stench was amazing, confounding, overpowering
for it was not the stench of rotten flesh or decay but the
musk of me hanging here on the hook, the humidity making
my fractured bones ache and my taut skin too supple to consider.

Ben Myers

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