Inspired by the artwork of Francisco Goya
With sharpest tooth I pierced a modest hole
Through the pliable skull of my son
And pursed my lips against his crown.
I sucked the scarlet sweetness from the ripened grape-head
Till shriveled enough to fit inside my mouth.
Aroused by the familiar flavor of fetal flesh,
Nine months simmered in amniotic broth,
My fingers impulsively dug into the fatty spots
On either side of his spine.
Knuckles paled as my grip tightened.
Reduced to a savage in a display of domination,
I shredded the tendons of his left arm
And grinded the bones to a soft powder,
Protecting my throat from their lethal intentions.
As each mouthful drowned in the acids of my stomach
And the nutrients of my newborn absorbed,
The alabaster of my eyes glossed
With a thickening layer of rapturous tears.
No trace of delay, I advanced to adjacent limb.
It is meticulous work to dine on a babe,
But if you feed mother well
And thicken the calf before it’s due,
The work is awarded with a well-seasoned feast.