Preparing blackened boy, I heat a house
with matches struck by boredom. Hungry flames
escape and gnaw the door. The boy can’t douse
the fire that licks the walls and ends his games.
I marinate a girl in salty brine.
As coral traps her foot, some kelp and weeds
entangle legs. A shark’s sharp teeth confine
her thrashing limbs. She trails from jaws and bleeds.
Methinks it’s best to serve outdoorsmen chilled.
As snowflakes season skin, the hiker slips.
The crack of bone on stone announces spilled
ingredients, and frostbite tints his lips.
One day, dear reader, you shall make a fine,
delicious dish, and I alone shall dine.
Emily Dorffer is a current undergraduate at Johns Hopkins University. When she isn’t busy reading or writing, she loves spoiling her cat and baking with her mom. Her works have previously appeared in Cicada, Breath & Shadow, and The Lyric.