What Lies Beneath

 

Today I am elbow deep
in some animal’s belly

pulling out the heart and stomach
for my mother’s table

brown rubber soles blood slicked
the swing of twin blades

cuts a whole village worth of pelts, 
coon, carved bones for ladies

jewelry and coats. These hands
can ground down rock and gold

call a man sweet dusty, mold
knots of spit and hair like clay

until a baby’s head is perfectly round.
These hands are good for killing—

I feel this knowing rising
like different names for fire.

Every bone has a ghost– 
the smallest, a stirrup in the ear

whispers walk carefully there
you come from a dark tribe.

 

 


Image Credits: Public Domain