The Non-Vegetarian

By | 13 May 2024

(after Han Kang)

It makes perfect sense, really
to make the most of this body
before the rot sets in. Maybe

a premature sky burial, and who better
than the ghost in this deadbeat machine
to preside as chef de cuisine. I propose

starting with the shoulders, so achy
after so many years of drudgery. Recipe
for pork shoulder steak should do, us humans

so comparable to pigs. Braise or roast? I don’t
have a Dutch oven, so it’ll be smoke. Indeed
years of smoking may have prepared my meat, alas

I could only afford the cheapest tobacco these past
few years. Poverty and overwork are truly
key ingredients for this auto-feast. For Entrée

I’ll crack my skull against the wall — in the absence
of a reciprocating saw, something else I could never
afford. I shall do the right thing, soak the brains

to purge them of blood. Dessert? I’ll stab and tear
into my upper stomach to extract a liver
which is no doubt fatty, courtesy of decades

of alcohol abuse, courtesy of even more decades
of life in an unliveable world. I’ll make foie
gras donuts and will serve all three courses

with goblets of thinned blood and piss. I’ll propose
a pre-dinner prayer to the god of capital and democracy
before my disembowelled corpse grins and digs in.

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