Volunteer

"Wouldn't you like to make Susan into a brisket?
I've been iron-deprived."
I don't know Susan, or Ellen, this thickset
Black-clad woman who crowds the office
With a nicotine cloud and the vacuums in her eyes.
Last week it was that she needed dark chocolate,
That everyone knows to bring her dark
Chocolate, or her father will come. Her father,
Do I know her father? I should know her father.
She knows her father. The dark chocolate
Will get her high, give her that buzz, you know?
You know she needs iron, what it's like to live
Without iron. What it's like to live without.
Brown sugar, three hundred degrees. Just shove her in
The oven, fourteen hours, fifteen hours,
Whatever it takes. Delicious. The onions will
Caramelize, will melt in the juices. The meat
Will fall off the bones. The smooth, white,
Relief-tender bones. Into her mouth, into her
Open, eager mouth. Her father will kill me.
He's done it before. She needs that rush--
At least 70%, or he's coming. Everyone
Knows. Her hands never leave her pockets.
I laugh. I suggest iron supplements, a burger.
She can't; "I'm a freak." There's something
In them. Humans. No need for a fork.