mixed in and ketchup baked
onto the top. Of course, killing
is required, but we don’t mind –
we don’t do the killing. We hire
that out. Well, we lack equipment
and space for draining the blood.
Besides, our stomachs easily quease.
We also pay others to do the grinding.
For a very fair price, they churn
the once live flesh into a thick goo
of squishable ooze easily molded
into a variety of delightful shapes
that look nothing like anything
that ever once breathed. We often
choose to make ours resemble a loaf
of life’s best bread. Then we bake it,
drain it, slice it, feed it to our children –
force them to eat all they are served.
First published in Avatar Review - Issue 18