Beast
That gray beast of burden with
his tangled arctic mane
and chilly dispassionate eyes
The ring in his nose
not by choice, imposed
upon his stoic expression
to lead him
to the branding iron
the scent of burning
hide and cloud of smoke
caused him to try to
break free –
only
to be caught
and tagged with a needle
and piece of dirty leather
which reeked dead,
he thought.
And reeked sorrow,
he thought.
Numbers stamped on the leather tag
matched those branded on
his rump. His tail
cut off, bobbed
before he was pushed forward
with twenty other brutes.
Wagon. Trailer. Train. Marked.
The beast lay down when the motion stopped,
calloused knees pressing into feces.
Sold, dragged by brass rings,
complaining one to another.
He spooked.
Someone pulled his
nose-ring hard to
bring blood. Hauled into the
center of a enclosure
and whipped to turn,
sold as a
beast …
never
anything more than
a dinner
second helpings
on a soggy paper plate.