“Song of My Pork”
I CELEBRATE my pork and sing my pig;
and every butt I rub, I rub for you
Each rib, stroked lovingly, covered with my sauce.
The ivory shaft of loin
Grows taut as I caress it,
Perfumed with my cumin.
It is for your mouth forever–you are in love with it.
I will go to the stack of wood
And stoke your flames.
I breathe the smoky fragrance–the heady perfume of the funk.
I know it shortens my life
With each whiff. It is my art. My gift to the world.
My clothes smell of the funk.
My hair reeks of the funk.
My soul oozes the funk.
The bass line of my being thumps along with your heart,
As a red trickle escapes your lips and
Smears your chin.
The tang of the cheese makes your tongue
Recoil with surprise and delight.
The buttery texture of the mac slides down your throat.
There is no opportunity to refuse its intrusion.
Pintos-peppery and potent.
Like sparks exploding in your mouth.
You must have more, More, MORE.
Apples smelling of Christmas and heaven,
Tasting like the devil’s ambrosia.
There is a heady rush of heroin in these sides.
I stand behind the counter;
I lean upon my elbow with my chin upon my hand.
I am always here. Waiting for you. Needing you. Come to me.
You will be satisfied.
Fully and passionately Knucked.