i bite

I bite at the hand that feeds me 

gnaw at its knuckles 

until I am satisfied by the sound 

of snapping carrots 

I would rather starve 

than digest the disgust of man 

I spit out each nail

and whittle its meat from my teeth

with the wiggle of a long white phalange

my tongue remembers the indents

of its naked palm 

reading each engravement 

with a tender lick  

picking apart its false prophecy 

I wipe my lips 

and massage my mandibles  

still chewing permission

the metallic aftertaste of blood 

pools beneath my tongue

And I cant tell if its mine

Or the price of obedient love