Turkey dinner

He wraps his hands around her throat: A candle about to die Black feathers in hand, almost smote With daggers bloody goodbye. Then like a male she droop wings But not in courtship display. Audibly, quills do shake, like foil shook zinc. Her tail now falling briskly, First to one side, cries cry out from her heart And then snood and wattle lay still… Her life diminished all limp in her black grab Extinguished; with one last snapped shrill…