Saturday, 2 March 2013
THE SLAUGHTER
The goats trudge on piously
Their heads bowed in prayer
Their silent hymn sent up
Resignation to fate
The neat line snakes on
The butcher bobs ahead
His mind set on money
The cost he’ll fetch per head
He longs for sweet honey
It’s spent before he has it
The goats choose to reflect,
They found greener pastures
They held tight to promise
They were in paradise
Before a shift in paradigm
They align at the end
As each take its place
Facing the block bravely
The promises erase
They don’t bleat
Hope fell to their feet
The butcher laughs
They clench their teeth
Finally… they huff
He grins
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