chicken nugget

i fear being consumed 
in unrecognizable ways. there is
a dinosaur who comes on our
back porch at night to weep.
i feed him dried fish & beef floss
when i feel extra bad about it. 
i sometimes eat veggie chicken nuggets
which is an absurd gesture in itself.
eating the idea of a chicken. i wonder
how & where people are eating 
the idea of me. my bones are 
really much thinner than anyone 
would assume. i know there are meals
in which my people are made into
little mystery shapes. in a sense though
i think the united states is a project
of chicken nuggets. i have in fact
sat at the same highway intersection 
at hundreds of places across the country.
in ohio in a mcdonalds lobby 
all the machines were chirping. it was
the only food for miles other than
the gas station grazing. the ground itself
is made from chicken nuggets & when we,
the chickens, cross the road we are
crossing ourselves. on tiktok someone says
that the chicken crossing the road joke
is supposed to be about a dead chicken. 
i am seldom hungry anymore. instead,
i crave a body. to be butchered 
in the proper way, animal to animal.
this place is founded on manufactured ease.
a story of buried pain. i collect feathers
for this reason when i find them. chicken feathers &
turkey feathers & the occasional feather
from a songbird. a reminder that we
are not just meats but color & air. 
that even if the sky does not hold us 
it bends down each morning to say,
"as long as we have blood, we cannot
all be undone."