A KIND OF BEAUTY

My heart is pummelled

as chicken breast

under a steel mallet;

muscle and sinew,

long hardened by fear,

break with every blow.

Resolve collapses;

surrendering to a far

superior opponent,

I watch as grief

tramples over the garden,

splitting peas to reveal

shining spheres of

sadness and joy.

Denying evasion,

the hammer breaks –

as sunlight through leaves,

or blood from a wound.

Regret and dismay

fail to arrest the fall

but open a path to

greater love – a bruised,

yet suppler, love.

Tender and boneless,

I am fit for

general consumption.

The gas ignites,

the hot plate sears.

Unravelling, I

melt to feed

their open mouths,

squawking –

like little beaks –

for food.