Carnivore, or Nagasaki Mon Amour

There is no lotus

without the mud

—Thich Nhat Hanh

I never asked you

for a flower. I prefer

my floorboards

clean. Who’s to spout

what is and isn’t

worth it? Spare me all

your Mahayana

prattle.

There cannot

be redemption

without the blood.

Now is not the

moment to be queasy.

Am I spared

your skyward rapture

if I confess my

fear of flight? I’d make a

lousy eagle. Hiding in the

bushes with my

baldness.

There’s no living

without a pogrom.

Tell me of Treblinka,

the measuring

of skulls, books &

bodies burning in

a pillar, as if the smoke

cannot ascend

without the fire.

Infernos can only

consume

what once had breath.

There’s no poem

without the stone

in Yucatan. Tell me

how you’d dodge

Dakotaraptor, groceries

in your arms, messing

up your Converse

in the mire,

berated by your wife

for leaky eggs.

Our son is ever-

curious, asking if Godzilla

would exist

if not for Fat Man.

Not Toho’s green

behemoth—the guy in the

rubber suit, bowing to Hirohito

in its stead, hearing that

he’s soiled the rug again;

that he’s footing

the bill himself, and if it

happens one more time

he’ll learn what

being barefoot

really means, dashing

his heel on rocks

like some beguiled

Son of God, knowing rain

would not be rain

if not for drought, wings are

only wings

because a colossus

wouldn’t slow its

ruthless chase.

Andreas Gripp

June 30, 2026

Dakotaraptor Image: National Dinosaur Museum, Australia