I want to believe the Holocaust deniers
I want to know that no man, no matter how angry
Or proud of his nation
Could lock the door on a chamber full of humans,
Then come back later
To stack up the bodies like meat.
But then I remember how we treat our meat
How living creatures sit
Raw-bellied, swollen, stacked
On shelves, the smell of dead
Flesh, grey, clinging to half-alive skin
I tear up fistfuls of battery method turkey,
Season it with salt and pepper,
And dress it up with garlic, I garnish
And swallow it down.