deaf and dumb
are the passers by,
the visitors as well
  
gladly would I fill their ears
with the wisdom of weary worries,
tedious torments, but I fry their meat,
smashing it until it screams  

the sizzling symphony wafts to my bulb  
stirring memories of the steer, the ****,
the beatific butchering, and
the killing fields of my youth

while others see only my hunched back  
and wait for their greasy grub
I ask why there is no atonement
no sorrowful song for the slaughter  
of young ones in faraway lands
who fell under the “noble” knife
or
the bovine beasts whose skulls
were there for the bar, that dropped
with sublime indifference
as it stilled their
magnificent silence