This is an improv off of Sharon Olds' "The Language of the Brag." What I liked was the line 'the blade piercing the bark deep'.
The blade piercing the bark deep
into the fur. A wimper echoes
across the halls and I stop
for a second, curious as to blood
levels and why a dog's bowels
don't release like a chicken's.
We don't have chicken in
New York. It's too cold.
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