Butterball

Deeply secluded within

feathered point of view,

Thanksgiving dinner threatens

all I hold dear.

I had big plans -

I wanted to be a baker

but I’m combustible you see.

Don’t want to be roasted

golden brown and succulent.

I don’t deserve to be eaten -

I’m involved in worthy causes -

Turkey Anti- Defamation League

the Uncle Tom Underground

and Kentucky Fried protest.

I have to admit -

I was a normal poult,

I pierced my snood and wattle

swaggered my bod in front of

sensuous juicy buxom hens

but now…

I’m in the prime of my life

organizing turkey Olympics

games of throw the egg,

bobble heading and

biggest turkey feet.

I’m furious at this family

holding your forks

waiting to stuff faces

with particles of me.

Why don’t you think

of turkey’s point of view?

You think we just eat grubs

and gobble all day?

I’m running for President

plenty of turkeys there

and most of them plump.

Why don’t you roast Trump?