Untitled (something about meat in the city?)

When we’re bored enough,
we move like panthers through
the city, swallow the breeze
through the slots of our teeth
like hungry tigers. 

After all, what other meat 
can we stomach? And what
else could we swallow that won’t 
grind the blades of our teeth 
to their root canals?

The construction crews 
shuffling bricks around the city?
The posters repasted
on to theater walls?
The knob of our radio dials?  

No. We want meat that’s 
tender to the bone. We want
meat that drips and swelters,
that waters with the taste of blood. 

But where to find 
such meat in the city?

Well, we don’t think 
about the details.

Feedback:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/8me3fj/moral_responsibility/ https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/8m675o/spent/