Ineffable

Butcher

I was born to be a butcher

But God gave me too much compassion

So my job was to skin myself

And eat my own fat because customers don't like fat

My job was to feed my community

Before I set my own plate down

Being a butcher to yourself is ironic

People beg for the good parts

But when you show them how it's made they take their money elsewhere

Being a butcher to yourself is lonely

But someone has to do the dirty work

When my mother found out my occupation

She tried to call my bluff

Because she didn't see my scars in the deli section

Because she already digested them in the summer when I was wearing sweatshirts

When I tell people what I do

They spit on me

They call me selfish

They disrespect me further

Or just use my tenderness

As if their ignorance was a promotion

But all it made me want to do

Is feed my heart to people I knew have never tasted a heart before

And feed my brain to a stranger

But if I die

There will be no butcher

But they don't realize supply and demand

They don't realize they are the ones holding the knife to my confused body

Taking what they want

And leaving the rest for someone else

I've been a butcher so long

I have lost a finger

And my last romance took my legs

And my family has been turning my bones to broth since I was born

I do not have the strength to unhook my almost lifeless body and get down

I do not have the strength to retire

But I do have two more arms

For whoever is hungry