I had a disturbing dream about a turkey – and now Christmas is ruined

THE NO-TURKEY DINNER

A whole month ahead of Christmas I had the turkey dream;

A dream of un-baked ideas, of being unable to find solutions

To problems, of attempting to cook a turkey and failing.

Was the oven not hot enough? Was a three-hour cooking time

Not long enough? Should I have pierced the turkey with a skewer

To heat it through? Because when I presented it to my beloved,

Tripping at the rug-edge so the turkey escaped its tin foil and tipped

Nakedly into his lap, head and feet still attached, rubbery as a toy,

It was still alive. Grasping its fat-legged, plucked and fleshy body,

I felt the stir of blood and muscle beneath its clammy skin. It raised its head,

Gasping, its wattle sagging, its eyes begging for life. I wondered

If I should put it in the fridge where maybe, by tomorrow, my dream

Would have resolved itself and the turkey would be dead and ready

For another toasting and the knife. But I set it free to roam, and now

I have it at my heels, waiting to be fed, hoping for a knitted coat until

Its plumage grows. It doesn’t speak, just follows me around my home. I think

It needs the companionship of friends. I sigh at its mounds of grieving meat

And know there is no way this Christmas that I’ll eat

A turkey roast. Planning ahead, I’ll cook some pork instead.

Unless I have the pig dream…