Stories & Movement

Home » poem » POEM: Sausage Grinder

POEM: Sausage Grinder


A worn wooden knob

Shiny here, pitted there

Rotates loosely on a steel pin

Set in a sinuous cast-iron arm

A horn flares skyward

It’s fed meat and gristle

The spiral augur chews and crushes

with gruesome moist sounds

Carrying meat to the grinder blade

Shredded charnel remnants vomit forth

from a perfectly circular mouth

Tumbling into an old glass bowl

Chipped on the edge but not abandoned

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: