A meal with no name.

I feel a rumbling in my tummy.

What do I have that’s yummy?

There’s not a thing to eat inside this house.

except, perhaps, a single mouse.

There’s not a single scrap of grain or meat,

not one single, solitary, thing to eat.


The cow out in the pasture?

I’d have to run much faster.

The chicken in the coop?

I’d end up covered in their poop.

Perhaps a fish from in my pond?

The time for that is, surely long gone.


What I crave, it’s much, much, more sweet.

I have it in a room, it’s just down the hall. 

It’s a secret that I keep,

a whole room full of meat.


I used to try to name them,

sometimes try to train them.

Now it’s more than enough amusement,

just to get to maim them.


Another grumble from my stomach and my thinking becomes clear.

Yes, that will be it, one of them will be my midnight treat!

These men I keep hidden in fear, in secret, and in such defeat.

Yes! Them, these men, one of them will become my meat.


Now, just how to choose?

Do I select my meal by their health?

Maybe by their wealth?

Maybe by their looks?

Or who’ll be more fun to cook?


Being that they’re numbered, maybe I’ll just choose #3.

#1 was a huge error, he was my first mistake. 

He died of a blow to the heart, a blow with momentum and strength,

he died in the moonlight, a blow with a stake.

#2 was miscalculated and I judged all wrong,

he turned out to be too loud.

I came to the conclusion to burn him into a thick, black cloud.

But #3, yes he will work fine. He was fit, and willing, he’d always been a favorite, 

he would do just fine.


Now that I have chosen, 

What is there left to do? 

I’ll have to think, to gather my wits, 

so as to still see sleep before 2.


A list of ingredients, 

a list of preparations, 

a recipe of sorts, 

a list full of appetizing actions.

I could hardly wait to get started.


He’ll scream through the tenderization, 

I’m sure he’ll still be aware as I begin butchorizatioin.

I’ll leave him to marinate whole while I’m preparing my spices.

I’m sure there’s a more merciful way of being killed, 

but my strong point has never been niceness.


While he simmers with my roux

I’ll be dancing over my stew.

And while my heart palpitates,

I can hardly wait!

This meal has filled my dreams, 

it’s always felt obscene.

This aroma ignites my senses,

the meal is finally real!


Now, finally, while I’m dining, 

on this stew that feels divining, 

It feels so close to fate,

because this is the most tasty stew I’ve ever ate.



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