Poem of the Week-Thanksgiving Veins

The veins on the turkey legs

Destroy the juicy dark meat.

Or are they tendons

Or cartilage

The greasy skin

fills my mouth

and compensates

For the gag reflex

From those nasty varicose spiders

Running through the limbs.

The carnivorous feeling

Of holding the large bone

In your hand

Harkens back

To the Renaissance Faire.

The ability to eat

Without utensils

Is a passage way

Our caveman past.

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