That’s consumption, I say—
gesturing to the paneled room, the chandelier.

And this is luxury, I say—
gesturing to us two, facing the plates,
holding our glasses.

You say you have enough.
You say you’ve seen too much.

My love, carnivorous—stay.
Oh human flesh:
too much of it.

May they never find you—
the second thoughts, the ricochets.

And look around:
it’s luxury.