I bake savory pies.
Sweetness is
creation better left
to other hands.
And for my filling,
I use
the finest cuts of meat
the thigh freshly kissed
an ankle of symmetry
and sprained complexities
cleanly gauged eyes
an old lover's preferably
a cheek with a mole, I'm superstitious
a generous splash of blood.
For decoration,
nail clippings the shape of half moons.
People I can't help,
or be.
I choose carefully.
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