How Lucky We Didn’t Kill You

Forty-five million birds

will fall to our bloody hands

in the course of a holiday,

but we'll praise ourselves

for the two we spare

Pointless political pageantry

where our blood-thirsty "saviors"

will still fully savor the flesh

of finely roasted death

But we'll call them lucky,

the two whose necks

we didn't place

beneath our ax

Lucky

it wasn't your blood

we drained

Lucky

it wasn't your anal cavities

we stuffed with bread

Lucky

for our endless kindness

Lucky 

we bothered to give you a name

Lucky

we pardoned you

from your countless

turkey crimes

Lucky

we even noticed your life

prior to taking it

Lucky

our forks found 

a different victim

Lucky

we bred forty-five million others

we'll kill instead

While we'll call

the only two we spare,

Lucky

Written November 19, 2021