Our Stomachs are Graveyards²
We lie the tender, down-ruffled
Bird on a platter and Ponder how Eat
Out its Heart without causing it Distress³
With bright Knives he releaseth my Soul,
He maketh me to Hang on Hooks in High
Places – he converteth me to Lamb Cutlets⁴
This Raw Flesh Reeks of the Butcher’s Cleaver⁵
I Crack Eggs on the countertop and they spill like
Heads onto pavement – emptying Dreams and Guts⁶
She’s so Kind-hearted that she can’t Look at Blood,
But enjoys Eating the Calf Served up with sauce⁷
You have just Dined, and however Scrupulously
The Slaughterhouse is Concealed in the graceful
Distance of miles – you’re guilty by Complicity⁸
Do not desire the White Milk of Mothers who
Intend its pure draught for their Young, Spare
The Honey which Bees gather Industriously⁹
Empathy must be Limited to Herbivores¹⁰
¹ Luke 12:23 (King James)
² Arundhati Roy, The Ministry of Utmost Happiness
³ Yukio Mishima tr. Nathan, The Sailor Who Fell from Grace with the Sea
⁴ Roger Waters, Sheep
⁵ Sylvia Plath, Street Song
⁶ Alenka Doyle, First and Last Crush
⁷ Leo Tolstoy tr. Louise and Aylmer Maude, War and Peace
⁸ Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Conduct of Life
⁹ Al Ma’arra tr. unknown, Do Not Unjustly Eat
¹⁰ Philip K. Dick, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?