If we were
truly comfortable
with the idea
of eating dead animals,
we wouldn’t need
to keep the process
hidden from our view
Slaughterhouses
would have glass walls
and stream webcams
and it wouldn’t deter
our ample appetite
Pictures of this process,
with opened skin
and dripping blood,
would be brightly displayed
on the packages
of their dead bodies
Which is, after all,
what is passing
through our lips,
death
But when we take
their chopped remains
to the checkout counter,
we insist the label
ensure us they were happy
We want to see life
on the package,
merrily roaming through
open green fields
Even as we literally
pay for their death,
we are unwilling
to allow ourselves
to imagine it
5 May 2019
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