When you think of usefulness, think not of the bone
But the advantage of marrow, what might not technically
Constitute a meal, but that which grandmothers heaved
Into soup bowls when the trees thinned of animals.
I am trying to be less morbid, but if we were the Donner party
Could I pass for a respectable Thanksgiving meal or at least
A sizeable charcuterie board? I remember asking teachers this
To watch how fast the red climbed their throats. A lesson in childhood--
To learn that we are meat before we are anything.
If you wanted a bottled kidney, or my midday slaughter
I’d ask only for the grace Adam gave the animals
Give me your namings— you, my late spring,
My stoppered hunger.
Bianca Braswell is a Cuban-American poet and writer currently enrolled in the University of North Carolina at Charlotte where she is studying English and Film. She has previously been published in Mineral Lit Magazine, Marias at Sampaguitas, and Stark Poetry Journal. She is currently working on her first poetry collection.
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