Our hearts are not with us, gone without prayer to passage
We are packaged separately, for the consumption of dogs?
The empty cavern inside us, to be filled with amenities
We have never known love, poorest of poor relations
Little brothers of Eagles, with no such symbolic protection
Bred and born, to die; no chance of extinction, or escape
But we used to be able to keep our parts with us
Before we were separated by economic discovery
Her ritual sorrow is sincere; imagining she is Montezuma
Whose spirit has entered the cutlery corner, in kinder form
To perform a softer, more genteel, sacrificial ceremony
With words for the multitudes, and soft yellow babies
And by chance miracle, we arrived to the platter, intact!
Every bite, only one, actually, was cause for celebration
The virgin’s life power, definitely male, I’m not laying eggs am I?
Belongs to her, who thinks, sometimes, she’d rather be Vegan
The President Of Dinner Affairs, was not asked for a Blessing
Instead, she said her own, Thanks and apologies, directly to us
With a Devil may care attitude, speaking to, and of, the least loved