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Cold Turkey

I cast a furtive glance

at Frank

while I remove flesh

from the turkey carcass


The turkey from New Year's Eve,

too much leftover

but what can you do?

They are huge


I tear meat

off small and large bones.

Tendons and gelatinous fat

I put aside


The same with the skin,

turkey surface,

limp and sloppy

and cold the next day


How ingenious,

I think.

The turkey is so

ingeniously constructed:


Like us. Creation.

Biological engineering,

technological wonder.



Yes, exactly:

Cybernetics transcending

that which is Frank,

I gather


I look at Frank again,

His grippers lifted.

He is ready

to clean up after me


Frank walks

to the kitchen counter,

directing his lenses

at my eyes

© Copyright 2024 by Jørn A Jensen


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