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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 ©
X F Lacasse
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