/lit/ - Literature

During the holidays when we sit down to feast
My delicious daddy cuts me off the thickest slice of ham
He holds it up, the morsel quivering between fork and knife
As I hold out my plate to receive the meat treat.

Plop goes the ham, onto the plate.

I stare at the ham, a pink glistening mirror
To the raw, dense fiber of my own heart
I ask myself, will anyone regard me to be so delicious?

I poke my fingers through the ham to make two eyeholes
And wear my meat mask.
I can see everything, but I have no mouth.