Nostalgia of the Cannibal

(after the painting by Salvador Dalí)

First the eyes:

filled with vitreous deceit

acidic witchery

no longer see the soul.

Next the tongue:

twisting words

consistency of lies

no longer curse our gods.

And then the spleen:

spewing venomous laughter

more potent than a bitter gourd

no longer spills contempt.

The heart was last:

sweet dessert

still quaking in the hand

as if it were alive.

Our victory of daily blood

fresh in our veins

when we were men

and conquered death.