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We were two rooms of one timber, but I left that place alone
- Red Hen Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
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48 WE WErE tWo rooms of onE timBEr, But i LEft that PLaCE aLonE Sara,widow,31 Henry pulled our heartwood along the rutted street that town stood beside, built two rooms and called them home. My Henry did that. There. And I lived all those days inside his love. But there is a kind of hunger that feeds on flesh. Only, let it be yearning, heaving, rising flesh. Only, let it be flesh living and loving. Alive. Let it be life. There is a kind of hunger that feeds on life. They carved into him with banquet knives, made stew of his skin and stirred it with his own bones. My Henry served: the meat and the pot to cook it in. And there was no charge against the men who made that meal. ...
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