How many notches choke a scrag?// Does the scent of leather change when its compression means death?// Do you commiserate with the bull?//
You don’t say anything// You scour Google and drain its troughs of news articles, obituaries, and book excerpts// You become obsessed with a spirit you didn’t know// But somehow know intimately, like a small end rib roast//
Some steer are blond-haired and blue-eyed// A genetic predisposition targeted by the Butcher// Those little masticated darlings//
Featured on Glass: A Journal of Poetry