I ate crackers for dinner

When I chew the muscles of cooked pigsI imagine them in locked cageschewing the grubto please the hungerthey only knew,their lives cold, meaningless, senseless, as the sterile blade thatlashes their throats. Perhaps in this hunger I cannot pleasea cracker will do wellfor the pigs–wheat grownfrom the solemn soiland salt filteredfrom the shallow sea. With this […]