a highlighted farmer refers to his place as “Chicken Disneyland”

because of the toys he has started to hang for them to play with

Blood gushes from my neck

   Rib roast, Chuck steak, Brisket

I hear praise for my work offering sanctuary for the few

who, through serendipitous luck, survive the deadly demands of your taste buds

The mother, helplessly watching, bellows and bellows for days and days, in search of a baby who will never return

Crudely drawn, without my consent,

holding a sign for your advertisement

An ironic cry for mercy from an industry

whose cows receive none

Happy Cows?!

Are you fucking nuts?!