Life’s Block and Blade

Like the local butcher
receiving deliveries of
chain-linked corpses,
all made-cold-for-aging,
swinging stridently along
like our own masses of degradable tissue,
powerlessly attached to faith hung rails.

We too move helplessly forward to
Time's ultimate sacrifice,
perpetuity being fed non-noursihment
to futher Time's daily dying.

Just as the clock for shopping's rush hour
urges the butcher to cleaver his offerings,
so too the ticking of our own destiny
hastens hood and scythe for our own one last supper.

Atop the block
straddles blade upon target,
awaiting the careful severing of anticipation.

For Now has arrived.

The ice cold reality.

Life's slice.

No dice.

Package-wrapped fragments
awaiting Nature's undesired ingestion,
soon to become tomorrow's
ignorant-promises finally made ready.

Cooking-Life's books?

What say them,
the slaughterer
the butcher
the carnivore?

How long will they/we endure the locker-frost
of prolonged preservation,
knowing we could be embracing,
rather than staving off,
one’s desired end?