Fat, seriously

Subverting themes of catwalk church,
We haul around heroic weights,
A monument to lifetime crates
Knocked back in life-and-death research:

The butt of twenty thousand jokes.
Yet lifting _this_ from bed each day
Takes strength that we could scarce convey
To blindly, blithely spindly folks.

Each second lived's a brinkmanship
Of untold valour, battling laws
Hydraulic, daring heart to pause
Its weary, silent, pumping blip.

We blur divisions: man or cow?
Or "what's the sex of THAT?" We force
Vague thoughts of crackling, apple sauce
Into your mind, you can't tell how.

If we was on a shipwrecked boat
The rest of you could live for weeks
By carving slices from our cheeks
(Assuming that you still would float);

Although it seems incredible
We feel that, as a species, we
Could benefit humanity
By being so damn EDIBLE,

And fantasise about being basted
Trussed, de-limbed and nicely done
Then served, with sprouts, to everyone.
Yet all such thoughts are clearly wasted:

The joys of savour'd human meat
Are fenced off by taboos so great
That few will gladly contemplate
Having a fat man round to eat.