Gross Truth Poem by dan hightower

when i last ate the seared flesh from a recent killing field i noticed a strange correlation to the tender epidermal chipotle casserole which remains such a prevalent part of my adolescent palate formation, those ever forming formative years when the bodies were plenty and the napkins once white were sanguine in moments, rare, unabashed and relentless we tore the fragile shells from cages of hardened marrow, casting fierce glances across marble altars we ripped the souls and feasted on vulture’s caviar, an indecent raucous orgy of savory strips, tendrils still jerking with nervous retaliation of violations perpetrated only moments before the mastication ensues, the marvelous mantra we all hum of grinding teeth and incisors sharp as raven’s claws, grand malevolent seizures making certain fools of us all, unmedicated we stroll the halls of immortality with precision and delusion, a cocktail of the spirit…