Isn’t language constantly cannibalizing itself into newer, different forms? Every word is a trace of an older, flavorful word. If you read Teo Mungaray’s short poem ‘Lengua,’ you would understand the double meaning of “wouldn’t you rather taste my loin?”. Cow tongue tacos are a form of meal, and here the cow’s part is beckoning to the speaker to consume it, to “[s]avor me” and enjoy the violence that comes with taking apart another living thing. You forget who is talking—the speaker who was “raised on corn” or the cow who suffered from “secret beatings”. Really, who is eating who? An ouroboros of a poem, ‘Lengua’ is beautiful in its parts and its whole.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry