Take Joe, for instance.
Never did give a damn
about exercise,
but then, that’s why
they chose him,
pre-fattened for the pot –
a huge, smelly thing
at city central, all cities
planet-wide now
we hear.
We don’t go out
anymore. That’s when
they take you –
snouts snuffling
like grotesque elephant trunks
dangling down
from their spacecrafts,
slithering along streets,
sniffing like cadaver dogs,
encoiling the unlucky,
and crushing them,
boa-style,
to boil in the pot –
dissolving, liquefying,
then cooling
to get sucked up
like a strawberry milkshake.
Can’t help but
imagine what lives
at the business end
of those stinking,
sucking snouts.
Terrified I might
eventually “see” one
from the inside.
(This poem first appeared in Tales of the Talisman, vol. 10, issue 2, winter 2014.)
Lauren McBride finds inspiration in faith, family, nature, science and membership in the Science Fiction & Fantasy Poetry Association (SFPA). Nominated for the Best of the Net, Rhysling and Dwarf Stars Awards, her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in dozens of publications including Asimov’s, Abyss & Apex and Dreams & Nightmares. She enjoys swimming, gardening, baking, reading, writing and knitting scarves for troops.
Published 8/15/19
