Borscht
The beet’s heartless
heart stains my fingers, crosshatched palm
Quartered throbbing beast The boiling water’s pink vapors
settle downPeeled skin splatters the unforgiving
formica counter On the cutting board, shreds of muscle
Slips of lung, slivers of bone
Needle worms of marrowIndelible
Not baking soda, vinegar, Ajax
or Mr. Clean
Not salt, spit, bleach