PoetryPause Blog – Matthew Ashbrook

Thanksgiving 2017

by on Nov.23, 2017, under Poetry

Time to stuff a turkey’s corpse
With sage and stale bread;
He won’t mind a bit at all
‘Cause after all he’s dead.

All his feathers plucked and pulled,
He’s naked on the stove;
His neck and giblets found inside,
A hidden treasure trove.

Through the body’s cavity
You reach ‘til deep within
And fumble ‘round his empty chest
Where once his lungs had been.

Pulling out the bag of guts
To cook or to discard;
A message from the now deceased –
The turkey’s calling card.

Cremated in the oven’s wrath,
The hours pass you by;
‘Til all the body fluids drain
While all your guests standby.

Retrieve the largest knife you own
And slice it through his skin;
Then divvy up the bird’s bequest
And feed him to your kin.

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