written by Leigh-Anne Dennison
Begun June 11, 1996, finished January 9, 2000
(copyright 2000 L. Dennison)
What a sanitary society we've become.
But just because our messes are neatly wrapped
doesn't mean they cease to be.
We still eat the flesh of slaughtered beings
to satisfy our brutal appetites
our tainted palate begging more.
No longer can we see their pain and suffering.
It has been washed away by the supermarket chains.
They present us our pound of flesh giftwrapped
and the price we pay is in dollars and cents.
No sweat of our brow--
no blistering of our hands--
no piercing of our heart
for their deaths.
No, no compassion in our hearts
for the loss of lifeblood
to create our elegant meals.
Not so much as an altar
to make their sacrifice holy...
or our hearts pure.
our hands become more stained
by their blood,
which we have neither touched
they are slain for us.
Though we did not call down judgement
did not declare war,
the extruciating executions,
certainly, we are no less responsible
no less blameless
than if we had.