Chin Pu (Mimetic Consumption)
(originally published in Blue Fifth Review)
The duck on her rock performs a slow dance,
stretching leg and wing she could be flying
but her eyes are steady upon mine. If I eat
her will I possess her grace? If I dry her bones,
pound them to powder will I ever be able to fly?
China being the oldest civilization, wouldn’t you think
there is truth in this idea? Snake blood is the cheapest
aphrodisiac — the glossy firmness of the snake around
my arm makes me remember every time I’ve been
touched. Panicked by my lust, the snake twists
and defecates, a runny yellow soup emerging
from a shocking red anus which for a moment
seems like blood. Yet the snake’s eyes never
flinch from mine. If I roast this body on a wood fire,
will I too be able to penetrate the entire world
with my stare? Emotions come from an older place
than thoughts — the duck, the snake and I share
more than breath, more than mere life. We feel,
therefore we are. It’s not so easy with people.
Even if it weren’t forbidden, could I process
your body for consumption? Could I use all your parts,
not waste a drop? Aren’t we all waiting to be eaten?
Somewhere, those I love would season me with care,
value my flesh for the qualities they’ve learned to see —
not grace, not smooth strength, but constant
restless longing, the mind completely open,
forever curious. Don’t hesitate — swallow me whole.