![](https://borislyppens.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/Altar.jpg)
Altar
Every now and then,
when their little stomachs begin to grumble with a big sound,
they gather around the altar
How patient they have been
having observed their prey sprout into something
worth climbing into
A leg that has grown to be lean
worth digging into; a chest that pleasantly resembles both boy and adulthood,
worth biting into
A mouth that doesn’t bite back, but is saddened
when stilling their hunger is all they think about
they gather around the altar
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