Sausages By Bruce Morton

We are all sausages

In our skin linked together.

Blood, bone, meat put

Through the daily grind.

Some red, some brown,

Some white, each flavored

To local spice and taste.

Yes, we are all sausages

Ready for the plate, a meal

Off the grill or cold, sliced

Or whole in a bun, smeared

With colorful condiments.

We are a feast, consumed,

Both the best and worst.

Bruce Morton divides his time between Montana and Arizona. He is the author of two poetry collections: Planet Mort (2024) and Simple Arithmetic & Other Artifices (2014). His poems have appeared in numerous online and print venues. He was formerly dean at the Montana State University library.