Start a fire.

Steal a caldron.

Select the bones

of a longstanding struggle,

and toss them in.

Season with your spit.

Simmer for twenty-four hours.

 

Choose a raw nightmare;

a beast threatening all you adore,

a pitch-dark space which whispers.

Chop up the heart of it

and scatter into the mix.

Pour out a pint of good wine.

Half for you. Half for the stew.

 

Finally, stand over the pot,

and berate the one who

would not let your No be No.

Add a cup full of your hot tears,

two ounces of your mute screams.

Season with your pleas.

Stir until sated.