Throwing the Crown

Mad About Cows

I’ve eaten part of a cow’s heart
to become a part of the past,
of tío & his talk of grandpa’s
love of tacos of the heart,
the eyes & brain, the parts
of a cow that make one mad.

I’ve held a heart hacked to chunks
& cooked on the grill in the backyard,
a warm corn tortilla cradling parts
of artery too hard to chew through
w/ teeth not trained for the toughness
of the meat, the organ that once beat
in the body of a beast who feasted on grass.

I’ve tried to taste a piece of the past,
of abuelo’s craving for tacos de corazon,
ojos y cerebro pero two bites was enough
to feel what I felt it must’ve been like for him,
the flavor & fullness, the forever chewing.