by Pepper Trail
Bluefin tuna, first quality, spiked through the brain,
frozen hard as stone, flown to Tokyo, sold at auction –
one million dollars, eaten wafer-thin, slice by slice.
Wild tiger: value theoretical, emotional.
Tiger skin: immediate sale; tiger bones, the same
and worth much more
ground into powder, steeped as tea.
So much power, in a box.
Animals for sale, you name it:
a ton of whale,
a gram of gall –
bear or snake or, for the poor, pig.
Turtles and toads, their rich black blood,
shark fins to thicken the soup,
swiftlet nests, delicate cups of spit
melted for 300 yuan per bowl –
nothing like it in this world.
This is the oldest way.
We have appetites, so we eat.
Tomorrow we may be hungry but
today we eat it all.
Pepper Trail’s poems have appeared in Rattle, Atlanta Review, Catamaran, Ascent, and other publications, and have been nominated for Pushcart and Best of the Net Awards. His collection, Cascade-Siskiyou: Poems, was a finalist for the 2016 Oregon Book Award in Poetry. He writes and explores the world from his home in Ashland, Oregon.
Hawaii Pacific Review 