A man basks in a red-lit room stocked full
of dangling meat, his expression aglow
with the macabre bliss of a frilly henchmen
or a silly butcher’s
Delight.
On this episode of Geneva’s Tree House:
“Look, children, the sunflowers are sunflowering
beautifully this morning. Today we will
be talking about fertilizing your garden…”
Sausage party, he quipped,
of course, “Sounds like
the place I want to be, or one
really ridiculous por-”
Sorry for the interruption, kids,
now to-
The Compost Murderer, leering,
menaces with a spear-like thermometer
“Let me take your tem-per-a-ture.
Mwahahaha….uh,
Wait.
Is that mold supposed to be there? ”
“Actually, yes, I think it is perfectly fine. What
a splendid question, young Christopher. As to the other,
yes, a body would decompose nicely inside
our compost drum, but don’t get any ideas, heh,
because the skeleton will come out eventually. Yes,
even the skull, William…I agree, Liz, brains
are oogly. Good thing you don’t have one…yet,
I mean (oops) …yes…ahuh…sure…whatever…that’s right
Kids.
But remember:
Recycling is Pretty Nice!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem