- Vol. 06
- Chapter 10
In that age, it was a well known ritual sacrifice
At the first sizzling of the sun of the morning after,
A cured offering to propitiate the god of hangovers.
My head hung in shame, rashly, I was tempted and I ate.
It was just the once, just to try, and everyone else
Was chewing at your flesh, but never again, I swear.
I delight too much in you whole, your seriocomic waddle,
From smallest cradled squeak, to lumbering nonchalance.
Your flesh is as ours, substituted and tested with gunshot,
But I would rather shoot myself up than risk your skin.
You are the all-out eater: nuts, tufts, bones and scraps,
Without a second grunt, you'd even eat away joylessness.
Naturally, you'd chew us up if allowed, but never bitterly.
Put 'er there, cloven hoof – I hope you escape our plates!
Unclean sacred pudding, you taste enough to live and let live,
May your bristled ears only be scratched in truce and treaty.