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when we receive this sacrament,

we try not to dwell on roots

we prefer to baste the dish in a saline additive

watching it stream down the burnt carcass

in little runnels,

leaving sodium lip-stick kisses

on a roast, mouth stuffed with an apple or ball gag,

tied to an anvil genealogy

before the bounteous spread,

fat women rub their hands and

“mmmmm”

smooth napkins over their substantial laps,

Lest any of the juice stain their slacks.

John Q. Publius

by John Q. Publius

John Q. Publius writes for Republic Standard and runs the blog The Anatomically Correct Banana.