Man's Best Friend

by Joanne Fong

Start with the runt, his shrill 
shrieks sweep out over a cruel
land, where a midnight sun 
never sets on entrails, stains
the ice luminous red 

Slice into the heat of his belly
               —a fish, ready
to be gutted. 

Hack at limbs til you reach
bone, soon you will have ragged cuts 
of meat, poor imitations of sliced 
sections hanging from hooks 
in butcher’s windows back home.

Flinch when someone nicks
the bowels, putrid fumes leak 
               out like a tyre puncture. 

Once you burn those hunks 
of flesh til taste turns sour, season  
with stale salt from gritty palms.
Almost forget nights spent 
under the endless sun, his pulse 
lulling you to sleep, fingers woven 
deep in shaggy comforts of fur.

Joanne Fong is an emerging writer, creator and functional human. She is a journalist at KOS Magazine and is based in Melbourne. Find her on Instagram @joannefwrites