Yael Olalde-Garcia

The Cannibal

He was nice,

wanting something different &

to my flesh he said —

no bloodshed i forgave.

 

Called me the cannibal

and made me your favorite enemy.

Never even liked my name,

knew you went putrid when you hated it —

note that, you said.

 

Try to be foreign in Bangladesh,

rot between human flesh

and hang the mesh.

 

Dress me up in lace —

don’t worry, i carry mace.

Find yourself leaking,

oh so many layers.

 

If they smell rotten,

they know my name —

and yet,

problems they are set

on labeling the occult.

 

The stares they don’t receive —

in the light, a blessing they appear,

hold, and disappear.

 

Cannibal, don’t hurry.

Quick, it’s all blurry.

Just make a bed,

leave no trace.

 

In ace, and pray — don’t betray.

Leave you with my soul tray.

Rot while i pray,

kiss and brace.

Leave no trace,

nails or hair —

 

this is cannibal,

i’ll embrace.