My knees began to wobble
as I heard your final gobble
and the ax came down and severed off your head.

I knew you had a brother
and a father and a mother
but I chose to see you just as food instead.

It must be so unnerving
knowing you will be a serving
and that being eaten is your final fate!

It must be quite distressing
knowing that with some brown dressing
you will be a meal on someone’s plate.

But come the morning after
when there was no mirth and laughter
I thought about exactly what I’d done.

I anguished and reflected
and our souls then became connected.
I and the poor turkeys became one!

And now this time of year
with the memory still clear
I think of all the fowl meat that gets chewed.

I grieve in slacks and sandals
as I light a set of candles
in memory of the turkeys that get screwed.