A Feast of Greed

by Sareena Kumar, The Branson School, 25'

Photography by Man Lai Esther Peckham

Behind the counter, Chef wields gold,

mummifying beasts in gilded breath.

Jeweled fig berries bedazzle rare carcasses,

royalty swelling in sweltering midnight heat.

Neighbor's dog whines, triggered by aromatic perfection. 

Heads turn at the sight of a golden nugget, 

presented on a silver platter, yet discomfort is only felt by me.

Daddy’s bills a blessing, or a slaughter?

Trillions more await on the horizon.

Inquiring taste, forks tremble at my lips.

Friends urge me to indulge,

eating lifeless beings, undisturbed. 

Merely one chicken, one cow, and one pig—disgusting. 

Daddy’s money fueled global warming,

every bill a cow, and every cow, a catalyst for methane gas. 

Red meat draped in gold it may be—mouthwatering or distasteful?

Dollar bill tree forests with no longevity, chop away! they say. 

Words that linger on the tip of my tongue can’t seem to e s c a p e, 

like the heat that can’t seem to escape our atmosphere.

Candlelight morphs into an unstoppable forest fire, 

Earth’s sacred land reduced to ashes within seconds. 

Sonoma ranch to cattle, herded, confined slaughter. 

Stenches of manure and methane gas i n f u s e zephyr,

pores clogged, ready to explode.

People ravage through rainforests, wildebeests in laughter, 

champagne glasses clinking in disconcerting unison. 

Celebration of annihilation—just look outside!

Every time she swallows, she swallows a piece of the world.

Gold embellishes everything, masking reality so that we need not confront it. 

Cut into the meat of it, though, blood stains your hands.

Cut a little deeper, and get straight to the bone.

Now, tell me, how does that taste to you?