Another way to look ...
Imperfect Past Tense
When we moved into the abandoned meat-packing plant we had to scrape salt pork off the ceiling fans and pick hoof chunks out of the oven vents. One morning I found you crying over the dishwasher; you'd read “sanitize” as “seduce.” I put your fingers in my mouth and spit out coarse hairs. We hid in the leftover playhouse. We wrote our initials everywhere in disappearing ink until the sheen of crystallized placenta made everything invisible. You weren't ready to replicate so we practiced by planting dead baby mice in our plastic garden. I pretended you were embryonic with that invented glint and gummed film strips of hogs strung up on hooks looking slightly green.
(McCartney November, 2010)