Flesheater Poem by Frank Bana

One night in bed, I took a vow
To live henceforth on V8 Juice
And California Roll. It seemed
The nobler thing to do, not quite the holy
But as pure as circumstances would allow
Based on my factual understanding
Of animal pain in industrial farming
And admonitions of sweet Lord Jesus
Gandhi, Buddha and McCartney.

Well, they'll say, what about Hitler
Hitler was a vegetarian too. But no
I will reply, he ate Gypsies, he ate Jews
And that's not what I have done. It's hard
To find support in these corporate realms
To change my own domesticated diet
Where I cannot run wild, and all
The valid choices are reviled.

Lying in darkness, I slowly came
To visualize the cages built
For sleepless tortured FleshEaters
As me. What now? A move to Canada?
To the Poor World, where chicken breast
Would have lived a happy life and died
A rapid death, perhaps before my eyes
At a full-grown age? The prospect left me
Short of breath. Without so many years,
I now assume, to settle my accounts
With all the creatures I've consumed.