Friends Like Cannibals
If you die at home, alone,
your best friends will eat you.
by moon-fall—even with bowls full.
They start with your face;
on its face, it seems gruesome.
It’s the same face you use to greet them,
and feed them
spendy corn-free novel protein.
They lick you to reanimate affect
or activate your arm’s reflex.
Maybe they grieve in compulsion,
if they burrow deep enough,
they’ll find you in the marrow.
Crystal Taylor
Crystal Taylor (she/her) is a disabled Latina writer and poet from Texas. She is a homebody who loves her dogs: Bunny and Mr. Pie. She has been nominated for Best of the Net. Her words live in Rust & Moth, Ghost City Review, Maudlin House, Anti-heroin Chic, and other sacred spaces. You can find her on BSky and Twitter @CrystalTaylorSA, and Instagram @cj_taylor_writes.
Why this poem knocked Martheaus out:
Okay, Crystal caught me at a great time. I happen to be falling in love with odder content and it’s spooky season so I was easily bear-trapped by this piece. Also, 13 lines . . . one away from 14 . . . and I'm just personally happy it's not in that sonnet conversation (don’t come at me, sonneteers).
But, don’t be ghouled or fooled (yikes, that joke may have hurt more to type than for you to read), the poem shines past its timeliness. Internal rhyme is used in a very inviting way here. It's slightly obscured by its position within the line and the conversational speech ("use to greet them, /and feed them"). What's even more delicious (is that an unfortunate adjective for a cannibal poem?) is the slant rhymes that linger in the back like specters: "by moon-fall—even with bowls full" and "spendy corn-free novel protein." Taylor and I are actually known for disliking rhymes in poetry (I know, we're just anti-fun), but I was just too impressed by how intricate and hiding-in-plain sight it was here. Plus, it contributes to the tone by adding another level of play with the ear. Also, Crystal has something interesting to say about the rhyme’s inspiration within the interview below.
The real resonance of “Friends Like Cannibals” is in how it lingers with me afterward. The poem devotes itself to the imagery and the strangeness of the situation, yet it still manages to leave room for interesting questions. I'm asking what it means to die while being with friends. I'm asking if one of the subconscious goals of friendship is to borrow within each other in order to discover the "real us" inside our bone marrow. I'm asking why it is that so many of us desire to be in relationships that eat us alive.
Interview:
There's internal rhyme, near rhyme, and wordplay with doubling words (like "They start with your face; / on its face, it seems gruesome"). Tell me how you think through rhyme with this or other poems. What's the joy in rhyme play?
This poem’s rhymes were inspired by how cyclical and routine our lives are when we share them with our dogs and cats. We go to work, or wherever we go. Most of us tell our pets we’ll be home soon. We rejoice when we get home, we pet them, feed them dinner, keep each other company, and play or go for a walk. We often sleep in the same bed.
I could see circles in our cyclical nature when I pictured these images in my mind’s eye. I wanted the language to reflect that. Plus, the subject matter was odd, so I let myself have fun with it.
You may not want to reveal much, but can you speak more about your motivations and thoughts on friendship in regard to "Friends Like Cannibals."
Dogs and cats know we love them and we exchange oxytocin. We treat them as friends, and even children, but are they really? We don’t know what goes on in their crazy little heads. I choose to believe, in this scenario, they are truly seeking a response from us, and in so doing, they end up burrowing until nothing is left. This is similar to the grief we experience with the loss of friends and family members. We cope with psychological defense mechanisms, like denial, until there is no other crevice or defense in which to hide. We ultimately come to accept the reality. I don’t imagine dogs and cats having this emotional defense, so maybe this explains this odd behavior of processing loss in one go.
What scares or surprises you about this poem? Maybe framing that in context with your larger work.
This piece is about grief, which isn’t something I write about, often. I describe my work as whimsical, yet dark and weird. I think those qualities are reflected here. The poem scares me a bit because it reminds me of the loss of my father, who was a friend, albeit unpredictable. It literally felt like losing a limb. I have heard others describe this feeling, too. I know I will experience that again in the not too distant future, and that is terrifying.