Tag: poetry

In the dog’s mouth, I found a chunk of myself, thoroughly gnawed and battered. I hadn’t noticed I was missing some of me, but there I was, tattered and bloody. I can’t tell you how I know, or even what piece made its home between the puppy-white fangs, but if you saw a hunk of flesh, you’d know if it was yours or not, too. The internet told me I have to swap with the animal. I have to negotiate, offer up something tastier, something sweeter, to get it to drop what it has in its jaw. Before I had any time to think, I took my mortar and my pestle and began smashing the middle, ring, and pinky finger of my left hand. The pestle would grind, and the mortar would come down…down…down. When my fingers were sufficiently crushed and sufficiently purpled, I grabbed a bread knife and started to saw away between the little pebbles and stones of bone. The blood was gushing in pools, dripping off the kitchen counter onto my bare feet. I slipped and fell and was covered in me. The thud distracted the dog, but only briefly. He kept going at the hunk. I kept going at my fingers. When the last tendon was finally severed, albeit frayed and worn, I took the three digits and dangled them in front of the mutt. The animal looked up. Eyes widened. Jaw slacked. And from the mouth of a dog, out I fell, punctured and sloppy.