Beginning of Cannibalism

Mouths full of words—
the three of us, carbon copies of the other
growing lighter, the younger

an outline of the elder.

Our father would serve tongue
wrapped in bacon
salted ,a bit of grease.

It was the knowledge of eating
a part of the body we possessed,

our tongue
against the nubs
of the familiar--

No tribe, no order.

Each of us trapped
devouring the other.

Four Birds Are Named A Flock, Two Crows A Murder

This is how one numbers
joy to torment, a gauge of emotion,
the body exists only mathematically

to rise and fall, our lungs compacity
to connect, if only the heart
could be relied upon

to caluate, all the rooms of a body
locking down with the same key.