Trimming the Fat

All that winter
we take turns:
one of us is the meat,
the other the knife.

My hands are slick
with blood and gristle,
the water pink
as I scrub it away.

Animals, both of us.
All that winter
we circle, alert,
waiting for distraction—

one of our necks leaning
toward a cool stream—
the instant of inattention
that allows the attack.

Then panting, wounded,
we retreat. The air is frigid,
metallic. Startled blackbirds
flood the sky.

We run farther and farther into
the forest, hiding in the underbrush.
My jaws thrill in wolfish anticipation
of biting, or being bitten.

Silence. The snow begins again.
We watch each other warily,
holding on to the possibility
of a distant, unknowable spring.

***

Leah Browning is the author of Two Good Ears and Loud Snow, a pair of flash fiction mini-books published by Silent Station Press, and When the Sun Comes Out After Three Days of Rain, a collection of poetry published by Kelsay Books. Her fiction and poetry have appeared in Harpur Palate, Four Way Review, Flock, The Petigru Review, The Big Windows Review, Superstition Review, The Broadkill Review, Tipton Poetry Journal, Newfound, Oyster River Pages, Poetry South, The Stillwater Review, and elsewhere. In addition to writing, Browning serves as editor of the Apple Valley Review. Read more at https://www.leahbrowninglit.com