Thanksgiving’s Meal

by Antonio Guerra Burgos
with drawings by Patricia Guerra Malmed

I looked outside my window pane
And what should I see there?
A bunch of gobbling turkeys
That were begging to be spared.

I told them, “It’s Thanksgiving!”
And I meant not to be fresh,
I said they would stop living
So that we could eat their flesh.

The turkeys then went pallid,
‘Cause they wanted not to die,
They would be served with salad,
Sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie.

I said it was tradition,
One they should not try to flee,
But they just wouldn’t listen
And they ran away from me.

I ran and shouted after them,
In this they had no choice,
But they could hear the sorrow
in the tenor of my voice.

I caught and cornered two of them
Between the shed and wall,
And then this big old turkey
Strutted toward me, walking tall.

He said that he was ready,
That he’d be Thanksgiving’s meal,
But just before I swung the axe
He said he’d make a deal.

He stated that he had no need
For either of his wings,
For flight he was too heavy,
They were really foolish things.

He said that I could cut them off
And feed them to my kin,
And in exchange I’d spare his life;
In this way we’d both win.

He pointed to the others
Who would gladly share his fate,
Far better to be shorn of wings
Than wind up on a plate!

I dropped my axe aghast (Oh My!)
At such a proposition,
To mutilate an animal
To fill and old tradition.

I could not ever see myself
Perform such amputation,
Inflicting pain and suffering
Of surely long duration.

I rubbed my temples, left and right,
In search of a solution;
Some plan that I could live with
And a final resolution.

And then, at last, it came to me,
I really was excited…

We’re having veggie burgers
And the turkeys are invited!