Vegetarian

Twelve ounces tortellini in boiling water
is supposed to be my humane dining option
since the meatpackers are trying to kill us all,
the animals, the workers, my balding grandmother.

Except that I can’t help talking to the food,
say hello, ask the little noodles how the family is doing:
Rotina, Manicotta, Macarono.
Once I decided they really could hear me, I told them.
“You’ll never see your cousins again.”