three weeks after
thanksgiving
you open the fridge,
peel off a crinkled
square of foil
and stare at the almost
bare carcass
of a twenty pound
turkey. it's been
in there so long,
you've named it like
a pet. willis, you
say, i think it's
time to go, but then
reach in to strip
off one last shred
of white meat
for a sleepy
sandwich, it's a sad
goodbye as you drop
him into a green
bag and haul him
to the curb.
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