I've not a lot to say about the bird
That gobbled its last gobble for our sake,
Whose tabletop repose is too absurd
For any but a turkey's corpse to make.
The situation's boggling to me,
I, seated by this vacant piece of meat,
The turkey, dressed and cut for all to see,
My family, now gathering to eat.
We stare each other down, this bird and I,
As awkward an exchange as there has been;
Our kinds have never quite seen eye to eye,
And now presents no great chance to begin.
We're not a perfect pair; that much is clear,
But neither of us meant to end up here.