July 4h Barbecue Poem by Donal Mahoney

for Kermit Gosnell, M.D.

Every year Dr. Gluck,
the famed gynecologist,
invites his nurses to his ranch
for his July 4th barbecue.

The nurses and their husbands
drive many miles to watch the doctor
twist the necks of 20 chickens
before he dips the fowl, some
of them still wriggling, in a vat
of boiling water to remove
the feathers before he pulls
the legs and wings off
and places all the parts
neatly on the grill.

Everyone agrees the meat
is wonderful, as is the sauce.
No knife is needed except
to butter fresh-baked rolls.
The slaw and potato salad
have no peer, the nurses say.
They claim the same for his
ice cream piled on pecan pie.

The perfection of this feast
is no mystery, really.
Every July 4th Dr. Gluck
celebrates America and
demonstrates outdoors
the skills he's honed
in his clinic for 30 years.
The nurses agree, however,
that fetuses don't wriggle
as much as chickens do
and it's nice the fetuses
go in a bucket
and not on a grill.