The Butcher Of Ba’Narg
The meat market man
butcher, cleaver in hand
goose down piled behind his door
innards, slabs, and haunches hang
clang as he chops
scrapes as he sharpens
The thin red line of blood trickles
out of his side door to the
small sewer in the center of the street
Whomever he greets, he smiles
bloody hands waving and inviting
everyone to the flesh bounty
A slab of pork
A hunk of lamb
Some ribs of beef
Keeping the choice cuts to himself
And giving the fat laden chunks to bums in the street
Makes them happy
Across town
In a dark house a black shadow hangs
Over the inhabitants
The mother weeps
A missing child
Father drinking in the dank living room
‘Nobody knows what happend’ the police say
A tear drops from the mothers face
Into her stew
As a sinewy bit of meat rises to the top of the bubbling mass
A gift of charity from the butcher
The The Butcher Of Ba’Narg by Lurking Fear, unless otherwise expressly stated, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.