Photography © Edward S. Gault

 

Grocery Store Slaughter

In a grocery store
off Tenderloin Road,
a venison struts
to the meat display

displayed like a photoshoot
model hungry
for a juicy tenderloin.

Wait. Does a venison or deer strut?

I got it. Behind the deer,
a lamb prances toward
the packaged meat
wrapped in oil-based plastic

with an innocence
akin to my daughter’s
joy for a lollipop

wrapped in oil-based plastic
born from the death
of ancient trees.

The blade of assembly line
slaughter is keen to slice
only the lamb’s circulation.
Don’t worry. My daughter
just got a sliced knee.

Wait. Does a lamb or sheep prance?

I got it. Behind the lamb,
a bacon trots toward
the cured meat

with a strong gait
a mirror to my mother’s
flexing confidence
down Shankbone Street.

Wait. Does a bacon or pig trot?

I keep on getting
my slaughterhouse order mixed up.
I’ll just go vegetarian.
Ah yes there’s the salad bar
next to the deer-sheep-pig trio.

I’ll get a generous helping
of greens with a vinaigrette dressing
topped with bacon cubes.

Do bacon cubes come from bacon?
I give up. I’ll take my salad home
past a slate of trees
filled with feral ham
roaming a pig land.

 

Keith Gaboury enjoys writing weird poetry that crawls under your skin for a warm home. These poems aren’t pests. They’re always welcome.

Edward S. Gault is a poet and fine arts photographer living in Brighton, Massachusetts. His work has appeared in Oddball Magazine, Spectrum, Wilderness House Literary Review, Interlude, Currents, and Encore. His poetry collection, Airhead and Other Poems was published this year by Read and Green Books.