The Butcher

The rest of the world melted away

When she was in the kitchen

Blade in her meaty hand

slicing open meatier carcass

Cow guts spilling onto

ice cold countertops

Spewing pigs blood onto her husband’s apron

The words “Danny’s Butchershop” barely visible underneath the crimson–

It was a family business.

Lost in the carnage of mutilated livestock

she pictured each limb she slaughtered as that of her sons

Motherhood had taken a toll on her

Long before she became a Mother

It was a steady neurosis

From her head to her uterus

I don’t think she ever wanted Danny Jr.

And she most certainly did not want to name him Danny Jr.

The truth is she did not want Danny to ever step foot inside her

Her calloused palm grips the knife with the same poise

Her mother had beaten into her

Gracefully she skins chunks of beef by the dozen

One for each day she spends the butcher’s wife