A poem for September
Friday, 6 Sep 2019
THE INARTICULATE ETHIC
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.