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Man-Eater<\/strong><\/p>\n You taught me to be a meat-eater\u2014 but I wanted to be a bird, I suppose. Or smashed against a window, bone-thin, hard-boiled, an egg on the sidewalk than eat something that would never be alive. You wanted to farm corn on the cob, but butter doesn\u2019t grow on trees, look, there\u2019s the stove, there\u2019s the fridge, and over here the cow. but how heavy steel can be in your back pocket I found out the hard way\u2014 when I tried to swoop from the hill, spinning my arms in crop circles. You and I,\u00a0 we sure were a team of knives, sharpening each other you said, teaching me: maggoty scraps of haunch, rib-eye rearing its ugly marrow. that you didn\u2019t see die. You said \u2018meat\u2019 like others said \u2018love\u2019 and ate the way You taught me that meat begets a meal, with all the living-bleeding-teaching. Aren\u2019t you proud now that I teaching myself to eat grass with teeth that you gave me, all eyes for the birds, <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Marie-Aline R\u00f6mer<\/strong> is studying Russian in Vladivostok, where she is trying to recover from the shock of recent university graduation. She is originally German, studied Chinese in London, and generally has no idea what is she doing where most of the time.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Man-Eater You taught me to be a meat-eater\u2014 to chew carefully with flesh-shredding-bones\u2014 but I wanted to be a bird, I suppose. Something light and aloft, edible if I intended to be. Or smashed against a window, bone-thin, hard-boiled, chewing dust and flour in an alleyway; you\u2019d rather I baked an egg […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8203","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8203","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8203"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8203\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8206,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8203\/revisions\/8206"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8203"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8203"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8203"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nto chew carefully with flesh-shredding-bones\u2014<\/p>\n
\nSomething light and aloft, edible if I intended to be.<\/p>\n
\nchewing dust and flour in an alleyway; you\u2019d rather I baked<\/p>\n
\nWhere is the soul in that, said a man with a dog, and ate his bone.<\/p>\n
\nand so you became a teacher. There was a stillness to your method:<\/p>\n
\nI had a hatchet and your hand, neither one very hard, no diamonds,<\/p>\n
\nrunning against a glass door with a cleaver in my pocket, forgotten there<\/p>\n
\nA promise in the pain: at dinner, we scratch at old wounds.<\/p>\n
\nuntil you found a bone to pick with the meat. I\u2019d rather you didn\u2019t eat that,<\/p>\n
\nDon\u2019t dig your nose into somebody else\u2019s meat, don\u2019t trust flesh<\/p>\n
\nmost people kill; all stealth and without motif, but always with aim and shot.<\/p>\n
\nso I ate it all: the plate with the bones, the knife with the blood, the world<\/p>\n
\nam a chink off your knife, all blade and no handle? Here I am,<\/p>\n
\nI hold your weight, hoping to fuse to flesh to flesh in ways beyond digestion.<\/p>\n