Vegetarian Sonnet

By Norman S. Pollack

Pour down on me all seasons from above
that they may yield the fruits of heaven's rain;
The flesh from those... what reason for their pain?
O cleanse thyself, and till the soil with love.
Bring forth good food, fulfill the need to eat,
that we won't starve for lack of cow or swine.
Spare the beast and till the soil; then dine
on carrot, lettuce, bean and squash and beet.
But who'll tell, if I, fortooth, sneak out,
have a burger with the works upon it?
Would I be cursed, in truth, by my own sonnet,
Betraying all I've told iamb about?
     The beat's now off, Oh God, I tried, but let
     me leave this poem with a rhyming cutlet.