Be Mine, Valentine

A labor of love to prepare her gift
Symbolizing what her feelings have become
For a man whom she curses
On humorless breath
She pounds once with her hammer
A spike through the fresh brain of a cow
Covering her hands in the color of the day
Spattering the room in shades of red
Her perfume is the scent of a slaughterhouse
Her makeup has but one shade
In a moment of vanity
She looks in the mirror
She sees her tatters and smiles
Then she places the gift on a plate
Presenting the festive platter
To her husband on Valentine's Day