They pounded and filed their teeth into sharpened points,
Like the predators that once ruled the Savannah,
In the time of their ancestors.
Now they were the predators.
Faces like demented Jack-o-lanterns,
Whose candle had long since extinguished,
Flashed in the moonlight that streamed
Through the smoke hole of the kiva,
There they paced the dirt floor
Twitching and jerking, and bumping into each other
Cackling and clicking their tongues in eager anticipation.
The desperate screaming and crying
Was a sure sign that food was on the way.
It would be fresh blood to start,
And they would all get a full cup.
Then the bodies would be hacked and flayed,
And slow roasted over the fires.
Unlike the goats and antelope,
They rarely consumed,
This prey didn't have to be skinned,
Or hunted in the open canyon.
Unlike the prairie chickens and ducks,
It needn't be de-feathered and provided more meat.
The thin skin tightened under the slow heat of the fire,
And sealed in the rich and tasty juices,
But was still an edible part of the meal soon to come.
Whole sections of arms and legs could be barbecued
And consumed by one or more people,
And the flesh was easily scraped from the bone
With crude flint tools.
The heads with their tasty cheek meat and fatty brain matter,
Would be cast directly into the fire
To be later eaten right out of the skullcap,
Whose bone, weakened from the heat,
Would easily crack open
To the rap, rap, rapping,
Of a blunt stone tool.
That is why the prey was always brought back alive,
Preferably young women and children,
Babies were prized and saved for the clan leaders and priests.
Usually, subdued by two or more soldiers,
The ambushed victims
Were wrapped and tied in tightly woven grass mats,
So they could be transported, without struggle,
Along the canyon floor,
And then raised with ropes,
To the pueblo dwellings
Butted high up against the red rock cliff face.
Once inside the compound, the mats –
And their screaming contents --
Were lowered into the Kiva tower,
Where the killing and dismemberment would take place.
Flint tools designed to scrape the flesh from bone,
And those needed to sever the limbs at the joints,
Were dispersed by the eager clan.
The mats were then put upon a stone slab.
Its surface was slightly inclined
With a small well and drain on the lower end.
It was at this point the victim's screeching head
Was finally severed and the blood captured in
An urn below which was quickly poured into the cups
In the nervous hands of the impatient clan
Whose chatter and babble by this point
Had reached a frenzied pitch.
And they moaned and gabbled,
And their minds reeled in a ravenous fever,
As they sipped their first taste of human blood in some time
