Zack Daily, To Become a Poem

Zack Daily

To Become a Poem

I killed a man in Fayetteville, and devoured him limb by limb. His poetry bored me, and his words

fell flat against the ground, splashed in pooling, shimmering red, the liquid rust of his body indistinguishable

from the crimson of the wall. But his life tasted exquisite – like wild cherries, or sorbet. Sweetness oozed

from his bones, and heroin leaked from the marrow. I endured his every scream, every sob, as if he were the only

one being ripped apart. This feast, this sabotageable culinary agony must be savored, remembered. When

one consumes another, do they become the same? Can I commit this murder and forget the man? Or is he born again

already, reincarnated in the bloodstained mirror?