Edible Remains

Bins of pigs’ legs,
whole, hooves attached.
Legs stretched straight
like a dog jumping to greet you
or a person reaching high.

Legs suspended from hooks by ropes
– blue and red, like veins knotted together –
above the bar where the man takes your order.
Waiting for you to take a sip,
plastic cones hang from dislocated hips,
they’re there to catch the drips.

Advertisements

About abigailbaross

Writer and aspiring publisher
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s