OPTIONAL POETRY

Per your instructions I am getting under this chicken’s skin with pats of compound butter, stowing the remaining herb twigs, onion, lemon, in the body’s dark cavity, cutting slits where the neck used to be, trussing it with its own legs, carnal, barbaric, delicious– Tonight is the dinner party, the only cohesive theme this newfound religion of decadence, oh we went in for truffle oil (yeah I know) triple crème cheese, the fattiest pork bits. […]