Animals get Fair Chase, but…

This poem wears a white gLove leads it to do the things is does


It moves with tender precision

crosses splicing through taut skin

a spray of hot blood colOurs is the battle to liberate life


Strong drugs wrestle pain and win

the splayed legged lady’s ease

Swirls of saline sting withIn this country we value choice


Lids shut tight block out the light

and salt that burns the eyes

Wisps of hair corrode away

skin turns flame-grilled black.

Squiming can’t excape this place

but white gloves make the plunge

Slopping out a writhing glob

to pile with the sludge


This poem puts on anotHer life is back to one


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