Stifle your stomach. Unswallow
the thigh; grind chicks to bloody
mist. White men in suits hung out
to dry: unclothed all this meat’s
the same mess. Unfill the vein,
empty the conscience. Blank it.
Blanche the brain. In this diet
skinless breasts are but vital.
Who washes away the blood
does not matter. The product
is the same. Keep the gizzard.
Roll the rest about on your
tongue. Bring it all into you,
but don’t get too attached:
it’s just meat. Remember –
love for no reason is still
murder. I save the hearts for last.

—

For the Gluttony Prompt, #SingPoWriMo

Also, this is my 50th poem is nearly 4 years. Almost 40% of which I’d say come from SPWM. Not including the ones I didn’t post here, of course.