BODY IMAGE Poem: jambon beurre, by Zia Sharma

her stomach was soft,
if you slid a butter knife across it
the skin would melt golden.
she is calm in a way
my stomach is not.
i need the steak knife to slice against the grain
of the meat screaming,
‘this way, this is the only way.’
the red that dribbles from a cut piece of meat
isn’t always blood.
it keeps the muscles ready to be made
a beautiful vermilion portrait.

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest