USDA Approved

the dawn stipples blackness

edging yellow

filming my eyes–

another hopeless day of agony…begun.

lacerations on my pink skin

crusted orange

growing over

and around

the rusted

bars of my gestation crate,

metal that bites deep into red sinews that would resist if they could but

i

can’t

even

turn

around

for a moment’s relief before bleeding out into pork chops.

not even once

i

can’t

ever

know

my babies from the constant forced pregnancies

not even one

since my babies are bacon.

mmmm–Bacon.

Brand new life smashed into concrete walls like tetherballs

except tetherballs don’t bleed

love

and think. I hear their agonized cries, dying a death more cruel than death, and–

i

don’t

even

know

green comes in hues other than infection,

until a sledgehammer beans me into the blue

not the first time, though.

he

hits, kicks and cuts me

again

and

again

and

again

and

again

(remembering that son of a bitch that cut him off in traffic)

my vision clouding in a new sort of violent, violet pain

underscored by brutish laughter

(and score of last night’s game)

and as I cross the rainbow bridge–

death is as sweet as dawn.