Black Coffee

A single shot rings out  “From where?” Squeals a feeding pig It totters On Unsteady feet Shakes its bloody head in wonder And again Resumes The filling of its belly

The first shot struck false And the next And the next Until one lands Which knocks The still feeding beast From its feet And drives The air From its lungs

It is as if thirteen men – With sharpened knives in trusted hands – Rush forward Rather Than the three we are

Children Sent away with their tear stained faces Long drags Through crusty snow Showing Their unwillingness to leave Wives Left alone Behind barred doors Tend The fate Of other flesh

Screams echo Through the canyons Today It is innocence Which dies Along with The wide-eyed Trusting souls Who heeded The call To feed

Like some great race Faces are set Hard Determined We rush forward Hands Bodies Meet Atop a struggling Pink form

A knife flashes Descends Twin gouts of blood skyward Sent Raising A cry from somewhere In pens beyond

A thunder of hooves Tested fences Squeals of anger Bellows of rage Confusion Terror Yet still The knife slides Hesitates Grates Upon bony cartilage Halted Ever so briefly In its steady progress A shruddered breath Escapes From between new found lips

Struggling legs Cease to hold And downward Our weight would plunge Should we relax Our grip

Heaven set eyes Glaze Yet still we hold As The blade Has not yet Done its work Onward It plunges Deeper It delves To strike The still Beating center Within

Screams of betrayal From beyond Merge With the sounds of anguish From nearby

As one we turn and flee the scene Dying muscles Sinews Find New vigor Striking out in greater and greater spasms Flinging the heaving body Skyward To fall again And again To The blood soaked Earth

Unfeeling hooves scatter men like straw Threatening Gate And Bone And Flesh alike

We gather Again About the great Roaring Propane jets Which Boil water For the scalding And the scraping Yet to follow

We watch As once terrified Brothers Return Descending In a body To feed Upon the blood Of their Now Lifeless companion Darting Occasionally From Ever stilling feet Ever slowing form

And black coffee Is handed all around

With upturned face And Shining eyes I take it up In joyous hands To sip upon this Sweetest Of Nectars Sweet only On this day The day When all The pigs Will die