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chicken corpse
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HATEMAIL
Settle down now, it is only your stomach,
being terribly aggravated, acting up again
from that gluttonous feast you just had,
a chicken corpse entire, its fetid flesh torn
by the same fork your mother once used.
Oh, I wonder what she might think of you.
You sit there angered drooling and gnaw
the bones like a godless, growling hound.
The pride you feel for yourself is merely
because the master whose carpet you shit
upon allows you to live out your soured,
insignificant lifespan— a flash in the pan!
