“What’s for dinner?” my brother asked,

each night, the same complaint.    

Mom looked at me and rolled her eyes-

a picture of self-restraint.

‍

“It better not be meatloaf,              

we have it every night!”

(We saw that he was grumpy,

and looking for a fight.).

‍

My mother answered with a grin,

“Tonight, we’ll have a treat.

I have prepared a red-tailed hawk,

complete with head and beak.

‍

If that won’t do, I could defrost,

some jackal buzzard claws,

or possibly a broiled roach,

would bring out your applause.

‍

We could heat some juicy bats,

or would you rather dine

on maggots boiled in cobra blood,

or quills of a porcupine?

‍

How about some scrambled eggs-

better if they’re rotten,    

cooked in squirmy, wormy cheese,

and monkey meat au gratin.

‍

Dad could grill an angry bear,

we’ll cook him ‘til well done,

or you could trap a backyard squirrel.

Now, wouldn’t that be fun?

‍

Orangutan or fried eyeballs

would be so entertaining.

I’d gladly smash red ants for sauce            

if you will stop complaining!”

‍

“I’m not hungry, my brother cried.

His face was ghostly white.

I saw a meatloaf in the fridge,

Let’s have that tonight!”

‍

© Susan Jakubowski