• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 05

The Butcher’s Wife

I am she: the butcher's wife,
cursing my hand.

                        I drive it
into saltwater/
into silhouette.

I watch my fingers dissolve,
my ring fallen away.

I remember bone
and a thick odour.

I remember a whetted silence
I refused to eat.

Why this?
                I asked.

He said blood was just another blooming.