The Arm

Copyright, LittleKnife

It lies in front of me,
thin, white and tender
This slab of Meat.
Faint lines of green,
like fresh mould,
can be traced up and down.
I pick up the knife and carve.
Like the Red Sea
the flesh parts
And Blood flows back.
It wells up in the ravine
Then overflows
like the tears.
And finally I can feel again
Stinging pain, sharp, sweet
Sticky trickle, warm, wet
And Relief.


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