The Carving

She takes up the knife and carves a meaty chunk of flesh from my bone. I smile kindly as she holds it to her mouth and takes small nibbles from the morsal. Bleeding and exhausted, I wait patiently for her to finish her portion.

Yet another one comes right after, and also taking up the knife, carves his own piece from another limb. I nourish him, and cure his frigidness with the heat of my blood. Without a word, he leaves the knife for the next soul requiring some nutrients.

Some say I'm a saint.

This is why I'm holey.