Soup for the Soul

 
 
I plucked your bones  
From olive flesh  
Threw marrow  
In cast iron  
For many nights it brewed  
Over wood fire . . .  
Branches from the tree house  
You built me in the woods  
The sex shack  
On which I hung your rack  
Of ribs
you thought made me.  
I used every part of you,  
Save the eyes --  
I let them decay in desert sand    
Far from the lush Eden  
Of better days.  
I drank the loss of you  
Like chicken soup on a rainy day  
I savored the flavor  
Which only comes  
With an abundance of time.  
Once consumed  
You went right through --  
I expelled you  
Back to the shit  
You came from.  
It takes patience to make a meal worth devouring --  
the taste of you is souring.