It was soft, the day was done,
and hungry.
It was small
and light
and squirming.
Aunt Agony passes the knife, she says:
"press firmly,
evenly,
quickly."
She squirms in my hand, soft
light fur and frightened eyes.
lifelike. Out against the stump,
press firmly.
blade down, quick, press. The struggle
takes more than a second
less than a minute
more than a lifetime.
Later, we will eat her in cream, and
my fingernails will be soaked
in blood
in bun
in the firm, even press of the knife,
and the squirming, lifelike form.