Raw Meat

My daughter came in,
Or my son.
Perhaps a niece or nephew.
A scraped knee,
or elbow.
Certainly there was a child,
And there was blood.

It was last Thursday,
Or maybe Friday.
I’m sure it was last week.
Or the week before.

There was raw meat
on the table.
Beef , I seem to recall.
Or Lamb.
Or, given the season,
(If indeed it was)
venison.

It was on the TV.
A war or something.
I’m sure it was on television.
Or it may have been the radio,
Or I saw it in the paper.
But I’m certain it was a war,
Or, conceivably, a bomb,
Or a plane crash.


Whatever, and whenever, it was
Something happened that day.
A child
An explosion
Raw meat
Blood