William Bibby


A poem for September

Friday, 6 Sep 2019


I read about a hundred cattle
Each separated by a hundred miles
Who never licked each others flanks
Or smelt each others grassy breath
Or lay like ships among the rye
Reflected in each other’s eye.

They met char-grilled instead
In an industrial fast-food joint
Where, for a moment,
Their cells collide
Between the sprays of bile.

All of science clamours
That no established fact prevails
Why this should never be.

Yet some inarticulate ethic cries
That a mouthful of a hundred beasts
Is like some insane giant
Masticating a Planet.

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