Muse's Ankh



The late afternoon air 
laden and swollen
with sticky scents
 of BBQ
and promises.

I no longer
partake
in one
but still indulge
my cravings
 for
the taste 
of something 
seared with heat
rubbed vigoously
raw with intention
until pliable
possible
ready
to consume
whole

So draw me
 a bath
and sprinkle
the salt

 I am a cannibal
of promises
I made to myself