THE SLAUGHTER HOUSE
when I got in line with the other cattle
They strung me up, asked for any last words
I panicked and named my broken things
fridge, floor, wall, my circulation
I just panicked, named each one
while children were dying
I cried on receipts
empty cabinets,
their price tags
pierced in
me
4 thoughts on "THE SLAUGHTER HOUSE"
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A startling and beautiful poem!
Thank you!
I love how the last line grows shorter and shorter and becomes so piercing.
Thank you so much! It started as a nonet but I had more to say so it became an 11 line version!