Pork (until marinade)


I was born. Not born in the flesh, but to the world, after being carried by hands through dark streets and up caverns. I don't recall much of my previous life. The climate and white light wiped my memory. And from what I heard in the cold, from those with flashback murmur, I'm glad that I don't recall. But, what I do remember is being chosen. Picked, handled and held. Prodded and taken because of my shape and my soon out of date-ed-ness, but still. She chose me.

I'd been restricted for so long. The others inferred that we needed this. No one would want us if we were seen just as we are. But back to that that piercing moment, I remember it. Oxygen forcing it's way up and into my cells. I relaxed onto new ground for a moment before flying toward a valley, vulnerable, open and raw. The streams I had known were spilled from me, but, you know, somehow this felt right. Unusual, yes, but as if I were fulfilling my purpose. Things were aligning.

Her eyes poured on to me, their gaze like monsoon. I was tilted and turned with care and attention. I split in two and we became us. We'd never been separated so cleanly until now. Our fibres and being clung tight at the new. And then. Left. We were left. Staring up, in and outwards through all of our vision, 'no touch' left us searching and taxing our senses until. She returned.

Until now we'd always been us. We knew how we worked, and it worked well (well, negating the ceaseless entropy). Our molecular structure and proteins and fibres were aware and well oiled- familiar within our closed system. That moment changed. Now, don't read this as melancholy, as we anticipate you might. We were unaccustomed with this convergence, but the way she dealt with it put us immediately at ease. Eons of contortion had been doing our structure no favours so as you might imagine, we welcomed her hands, despite the foreigners which subsequently made their home in us.  

Immediately, with a surge, their composition merged with ours. We had changed and we knew it. Outwardly it showed, our edge now sharp vivid red, but inwardly, in our immeasurable cores, transfer was at work. With every push and stroke our architecture shifted. The rhythm entranced us. Mesmerised, our consciousness became wrapped in those hands, waves on the shore. We slipped out of mind, not noticing the bath we plunged into where we slept for the night. When we woke up, we fell apart.