The Butcher - Matt Pond PA

Open up till midnight

The butcher waits for someone’s desperation

That goes beyond control

Speaking is an invitation

Under fluorescent lights

You can’t wash out his desire

Where bodies are indecent

And they are not in decline

From behind the counter he thought

You whispered, you want more

Cut out the brights of the oncoming cars on the highway

Lightness is forced when you cut out the lines in the paper

Cut the split seconds

The ones over filled

When you thought you were caught with unknowable thrills

Instead you get absence

Soft haze in the face

The lines in your head, have to all be replaced

Cleave the dry stone to a promise

That an answer soon will follow

Grave attention is still focused

On the flashlight and the cold fortune

Down the streets on prospects

The butcher walks home

Orange in the streetlights

Even knows it in the dark

Proves it with his eyes closed

He puts his red coat, downstairs

Goes up into his bedroom

Undresses and folds his arms

As if it could impress you

From under the covers he thought

You whispered, you want more