The whole place smelt like pig slaughter.
It got worse the longer we stayed.
Dirt and fear and dark night that laid
in our chests in ways that felt
violent; ways that violated.
You kept asking if I was okay 
as if to say my not being so
got in the way. You’re embarrassed
and I’m trying to be brave—
Remember names, stop smiling late.

I want all the pigs to be okay.

Knowing it’s far too late
What we taste now is a haunting
It sits between us in the dead
of night. Blood in the streets like
it’s normal to breathe in such pain.
Some things you can’t take back and
they sit inside your interactions like a hazard.

Who cleans after the slaughter? I imagine
Red tinged cement that foreshadows to
innocent hooves unexpected permanence.
Tonight a blood moon hovers patiently 
While I corner a stranger for something 
worth killing to eat
worth dying to love.