I don't like it when they leave the heads on.
I mean it's not nice, is it.
The idyllic order of the abattoir.
Mary is on stunning and bleeding.
She prefers evisceration.
Still, the work's ok
and it's her day off tomorrow.
Deft hands perform their daily ballet.
Mary had a little lamb. LOL
From somewhere else,
in the heart of the building:
a man's voice
We listened for a bit.
He had quite a good voice.
Then Linda gave us one of her looks
and we got back to work.
The first victims were the countless birds,
spellbound by the voice of the singer.
pull him apart
chump chop scrap saddle
there are several conveyor belts,
each carrying a different cut
a whistled tune
makes bloodless poetry
The trees shed their leaves and,
with bared heads,
mourned his loss.
from the lower end
of the leg
full of flavour
fall from the bone
yields a generous amount of meat
will feed very generously
stripping the cooked meat from the bone
and stewing it in its cooking juices
stretch it further
they lick their fingers
and belch him
the horizon a bloody bandage
the snake god the god of clean death passes in a skull on wheels
whiter than white
humming a dimly remembered tune