This direct and to-the-point poem with a seemingly comical title drew me in, anticipating an eye-opening message of the true horrors that are attached to one measly chicken dinner. Through incredibly vivid detail that even a non-chicken farmer, like myself, I could imagine thousands of them being “smothered, slaughtered, skinned, and sold,” as she states in her poem. Though this is an image that certainly no one wants to see, we must one day acknowledge and attempt to better our lifestyles for the good of our planet.

     Though a vegan lifestyle is unrealistic for many, including myself, we are now in an age and time where we must truly reconsider and take into account what matters to us as a race. Perhaps a less poultry-heavy diet could be taken into consideration. By the end of reading this beautiful, but ultimately horrendous, poem, I was left with goose, or should I say chicken, bumps on my arms. This poem forces us to reconsider what a simple meal means for the world and for the millions of animals consumed daily and just how delicate life, of all forms, truly is.