I Don’t Think I’ll Eat Meat
Emerging over time,
Uncomfortable, uneasy,
Almost queasy
When meat meets the taste buds,
I am losing what was magic
Once upon a youthful time.
How I used to relish
A delicious New York steak,
A tenderloin joined to the tongue,
A quarter-pounder, nay, a half-…
A calf called veal
(Until
I found that calves were made anemic,
Kept in stalls half-light
To keep their meat milk-white).
In any case,
Tastes mutating without a sweat,
I gently push the meat aside
To favor sweets
And savor nuts and flax,
The textured list unending.
But at times, just sometimes
I’ll eat
Meat
And really like it.
As a tribute to a sparerib,
Moral conscience taking leave,
Double standard winning over,
And at risk of sounding glib,
And unwilling to convey a fib,
I put bread aside,
Rice, beans and greens
And dig into a slaughtered pig
Or cow,
Denying that and how they died.
I don’t think
I’ll be eating meat at all
In the (far) future;
Not yet sure.
I don’t think so.
I Don’t Think I’ll Eat Meat 8.23.2013
Nature Of & In Reality; A Sense Of The Ridiculous; Defiant Doggerel;
Arlene Corwin
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Arlene Corwin Poetry 