Ride to Slaughter
Elizabeth Glixman

You might wonder what a horse thinks
on his way to the slaughter house
The sense of dim error in the air
The lack of water
The other horse’s shoves leaning him into the highway
Sweet hay, the words I love you
are lost in the trash bin at the rest stop
where the driver stopped
to pick his nose
to heat his blood with sweet coffee

The breathless windowless ride
The motion of the van hauling him to finality
Others faces flicker eyes immense
Does he tremble still with the dream
as he looks?

The shepherd dog in Korea
would be dead
before the man at the rest stop finished his drink
He wagged his tail
hoping the hand that was to skin him
might look into his eyes
Might change its motions
And caress

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