My teeth gnawed around the flesh.
The blood was rich and thick.
I carved out slices from his leg,
Which I roasted on a stick.
Certain parts were left untouched,
To reserve some dignity.
I felt bad for killing him,
The last survivor with me.
When our plane crashed, there was no choice,
No food or water for days.
I knew either he or I would kill,
So I contemplated the ways.
You’d think there’d be alternatives,
But I found there was no other.
And until you’ve starved for days on end,
Don’t fault me for eating my brother.
