A Brief History of Meat
There is no name for the piece that the butcher prefers. It survives as something closer to need, the entire business of eating another animal swooping out of the human chest like a great, featherless bird. No layers. Nothing joined. Teeth no different from any other elemental tool. It seems to belong within this row of little shacks that has housed us since the war. It has been skillfully cubed to fit, but can never be completely removed from the bone.