Unmoving On My Plate Poem by Stephanie Shelton

He lay unmoving upon the glass,
His moments in life, not much to pass.
He had a short life, to be assumed,
until twas eaten and consumed.

I know not his name,
nor his life story,
nor why they sought him for,
their own selfish glory.

They found him to be one, divine and exquisite.
Now at end, his life unable to visit.
How he went, I'll never know,
how he was sent to death row.

I'm sure in spite of his untimely strife,
the poultry did live a happy life.
I pondered this as others ate,
as the chicken lye upon my plate.