Luxury Item

Just how long does a steaming lobster sob? 
How terribly do boiling limbs and guts
burn? Like a million simultaneous cuts? 
When does its sweltering heart cease to throb? 

On who’s authority do humans rob
that creature of its life? Have we the rights? 
—the rights to cook a living being? Nights,
(countless), have I questioned this brutish job.—

Yet, even still, I meet no day when not
a hungry shopper comes to claim a kill.
And for the taste of murdered, smoldered meat,
—(we sear our ethics inside that same pot)—
they beg me: “I can’t bear do it, but will
you?”. — — I’m sorry, truly, crustacean…”treat”.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace