Beginning
A chicken,
a rooster, or a goat
my story begins with a sacrifice,
a choice, because god is good,
and my hands
are bloody
and in the beginning
is always the deed
and then
confusion.
In the beginning then
my hands were bloody again
and feathers
stuck in my hands
and thighs and even my throat,
and there I stand, in my kitchen
beginning
again. I tear
the flesh from the bones
and break the bones
and suck
the marrow.
The heart I swallow
whole, it still beats.
With the
beak I scratch
out my eyes. Both wings
I extend in my hands,
catching
the updraft
from the fire and then
I remember to begin again.
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