Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
An early twentieth century kind of thing But sometimes my hope feels like a battery hen, factory farmed Nearly featherless, since molting makes her produce more eggs Crowded so she cannot move De-beaked so she cannot defend herself A slow death for about three years until she is gassed in a small container A product, not an animal a unit, not a senseate being Hope is a thing with feathers But when all the feathers are gone only the hope of rescue remains
0
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 10:07 AM UTC
Hope May Be a Thing with Feathers
An early twentieth century kind of thing But sometimes my hope feels like a battery hen, factory farmed Nearly featherless, since molting makes her produce more eggs Crowded so she cannot move De-beaked so she cannot defend herself A slow death for about three years until she is gassed in a small container A product, not an animal a unit, not a senseate being Hope is a thing with feathers But when all the feathers are gone only the hope of rescue remains
zulu-samperfas
Written by
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 10:07 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem