Urge of Appetite

Well he shows up each Thanksgiving
at the turkey oven door.
He’s an uncle from the country
with a food mantra of, More.
He’s a lanky drink of water
with a stomach for all time...

so he gnaws a leg,
lots of taters too;
I wait for sans mastication
yet it seems he’s never through.
He’s a walking talking urge of appetite
ready to add another heaping helping.

As we pass the white meat platter
he attaches with his claws;
(it’s an incident at table
  with oft little seen in-laws.)
Then the turkey slides on off the plate
as if a tidal wave...

and he wolfs it down,
it creates a buzz;
he sucks vittles up into his maw
much like a Hoover does.
He’s a walking talking urge of appetite
ready to add another heaping helping.

Thus his wife across the table
in embarrassment chides, “Jim!”
(In the realm of table manners
  hunger renders porch lights dim.)
Yet he grins as if canaries call
and scoops bean casserole...

then he smacks his lips,
and he rolls his eyes;
the desserts abiding on the sink
pervade his hungry eyes.
He’s a walking talking urge of appetite
ready to add another heaping helping.


36 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
11-27-14