by Zachary Kluckman

We were eating ourselves in those days
Angrily tearing off pieces of meat
Masticating the soles of our feet
Between gravel teeth and street corners
Making the flesh bleed
When hydrants broke loose, we went dancing

Maybe it was the heat, all that dancing
Celebrating sweat and short days
We left windows open, let the calendars bleed
Weeks, salting the evenings like meat
We would eat in the morning, sitting on corners
Tapping dirty toes and bare feet

Mailmen would pass within feet
Of our homes, dodging large dogs, dancing
Away from fireworks burning on the corners
Tree sap on our knees, sticky fingered days
Cats chasing birds with meat
In their eyes, the leaves burnt and bleeding

We never questioned cement or the ability to bleed
Never noticed the calluses on our feet
Stricken with seed envy, the taste of fruit’s meat
Desperate to grow and take our shadows dancing
We counted out the days
Waited under streetlights to see them passing the corner

We measured our speed by racing to corners
Nursing our friends when they started to bleed
From exertion, we built bridges by day
That we would eventually burn with the friction of our feet
But in the blaze we learned the secret of dancing
Bright effigies of capable meat

Like pomegranates we were more seed promise than meat
Thrusting our roots through the cracks on the corners
Holding t-shirts over our heads, flags dancing
Before they taught us to bleed
We weren’t used to the weight of these boots on our feet
Or the effect of their gravity on a day

At sunrise we go dancing in our singular meats
Longing for corners and the innocence of days
When our guns did not bleed and our friends saw our feet

ZACHARY KLUCKMAN is a poet, actor and spoken word artist whose work appears across the world. Recently he founded the world’s only Slam Poet Laureate program as well as receiving nominations for both Best of the Net 2009 and the Pushcart Prize. His work appears on radio stations internationally. Recent publications include The New York Quarterly, Memoir (and), The Pedestal and more. When he’s not writing poetry he is pondering the flight path of light through the multiple universe that string theory suggests… or eating yogurt.