At The Altar Of SPAM

At The Altar Of SPAM


The porch lights speckled the nighttime sky
like gleaming jack-o’-lanterns with a thousand eyes.
The earth and sky melted into a single black lamb
as the children approached the altar of Spam.

“Spam! Spam! Spam!” the cry arose from the mouth’s of the tots.
“Spam! Spam! Spam!” all dressed in costume and carrying black pots.

On the sacrificial mound stood the giant blue can
surrounded by torches that waved like a hand.
Its top, now keyed open, dripped gelatinous rot
as each child moved forward and tossed in their pot.

“Spam! Spam! Spam!” the hypnotic chant grew like a terrible din.
“Spam! Spam! Spam!” they tossed in their parents wrenched limb from limb.