Spam Sonnet

Okay, so I've been doing too much of the moody-heavy-abstract kinds of sonnets. Any moment now my nine followers will drop to four. Can't have that. Solution? Spam! (the kind you eat or don't eat; not the kind you filter)

Spam Sonnet

by Gideon Burton

Third cousin to a pig and twice removed,

It oozes, goopy, from its squarish tin;

Thick film conceals the lard with which its grooved,

Intestines pureed mottle its pink skin.

Would ancient man have glorified the spam,

In pictographs preserved its conquest sure?

Or would they shrug at its smooth texture, bland–

No boxy graphic to make spam endure?

In industry the spam is thrift itself:

No bones or organs spill aside as scrap.

Once salted, lives for decades on a shelf;

Discerning palates know its kind from crap.

     Maligned, despised, yet all the while consumed

     If spam’s eternal, earth itself is doomed.

Feel free to copy, imitate, remix, or redistribute this poem as long as you give proper acknowledgment of authorship. Photo: flickr - AJC1