There was no stench of innards,
no accusing eye.
Belly and head had been disposed of
after the drawing, the hanging.
Now the Fleischmeister stood
cleaver in hand, smaller blades
and scalpel ranged at his side
ready to reduce the body further.
It was obvious by his speed
that he was an expert quarterer,
a serial offender.
Soon the corpse was hacked
and sliced small enough for us,
his accomplices, to stuff into bags:
rib, rump, loin, fillet,
blade, brisket, shin.
In the kitchen, Irene slices bacon,
plans family-friendly menus.
Tonight she’ll render down rinds
for dripping, to fry tomorrow’s belly pork.
At the sausage factory, the thirty-five-year old
flashes his gold tooth at a new recruit,
studies the curvy teenager,
the straining poppers of her overall.
In his back room, grey-haired Stanley
leaves his young friend hanging
in cyberspace, lifts his stew-stained mac
off the hook, sets out for an eyeball.
At the corrida, a scar-cheeked matador
executes wild veronicas with scarlet cape,
lines up sword with hump on bull’s back,
looks forward to a new pair of ears.
All along the border, the warmonger
drops gutturals from scarcely open lips,
redeploys missile brigades,
anticipates an evening barbecue.
Sharon Larkin has been published in anthologies, journals and ezines,
including May Day (Cinnamon), Heart Shoots and Reach (Indigo Dreams), Here Comes Everyone (Silhouette), Parenting (Mothers Milk) and Fit to Work – Poets against Atos. With a passion for Welsh language and literature, she has also translated Eisteddfod poems into English, reviewed A Life of Guto’r Glyn by E A Rees (y Lolfa) for Iota magazine and taught Welsh for Adult classes for Coleg Gwent. Sharon is chair of Cheltenham Poetry Society, running workshops, writing groups, retreats, readings and recitals throughout the year. She has an MA in Creative Writing from the University of Gloucestershire. http://sharonlarkin.blogspot.co.uk