The Meat’s Gym Poem by Eromo Egbejule
The Meat’s Gym
Running the relays,
Stunting in a sea of sweet smells,
Exercising its fleshy structure
And softening its texture:
The meat’s gym
Is my pot of soup.
Morning, noon and nightfall,
The gym opens at these shifts.
Up and down and left and right,
‘Tis doing its dying rites.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
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4/19/2024 6:57:22 PM # 1.0.0.1119
