Silence of the Turkey

There's a body in our fridge.
Hacked and hewn,
Flesh ripped from the bone,
A hollow shell of its former self.

In the dark of night
We carefully pick its bones,
Place the carcass in a large garbage bag,
And sneak out to the trash.

We heave and puff,
Pushing it over the edge of the can.
It lands with a resounding thud.

We put the lid on
And stealthily tread back into the house.

Relief.

It's finally gone.

That was one good bird.