Tuesday, October 6, 2020

The Turkey Blues

i stare at the butterball
turkey
still in my freezer.
it takes up a lot of room.

i bought it
eleven months ago.
i get the ice scraper out of my
car and scrape
it down.

it never made it out
of the ice box
and into the oven.

it never was stuffed and basted,
never had a meat thermometer
jabbed into it's side.

i had high hopes for a norman rockwell
photo op
if i could dig up anyone to come over
and play along.

i pull the massive ball of ice
out and feel it's
frozen fifteen pounds
in my hands.

i feel bad for it.
for the turkey himself.
losing it's head, it's feet.
it's neck.

wrapped tightly in plastic.

for what?
to sit in someone's freezer
for years.

what kind of after life is that?

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