Family Meal v.2

[Leanne]

We are what we eat,
become remains of beasts,
leaving stains on heart and cloth. -- a fine beginning, especially this last line

Cooked to perfection, our guilt is washed away -- two overused phrases could be combined into something new, like "our guilt is boiled away" or even "flensed"
with washed red hands, suffering is seared, -- if you leave "washed" in the first line, you really need to remove it from this one
cruelty bathed in wines, roasted with herbs.
We soon forget the nature,
pretend that there was no life,
only the dream of a breath.

The aroma of abattoirs is smothered
with sauces, cries are stifled with spices,
moans choked with crusts.

Exhausted, the torment is tender, the forsaken flavours
of flesh entice each man,
death digests, drips down
from lips, shame pushed aside for pleasure,
left only is the bone.

I won't pretend this doesn't make me a bit hungry for a steak

I like what you're doing here and think that if you're careful to stick to the metaphor and not get sidetracked, you will have a really good poem.