Murder and Butchery
These days I am far removed
from the realities of murder
and butchery, but in my childhood
days of rabbits in the hutch
and mail order chicks
I was very familiar
with death and parting out
an animal for the table.
When the peeping box arrives
there is wonder and joy and
then the hateful stench, the
moulting and pecking. Dad had
to cut their beaks to slow
the violence encouraged by
their close quarters. I remember,
the thrill of the kill was over
before the first headless dance
ended. From there the slog
begins– feathers and guts,
the gruesome monotony
of processing warm bodies
for the freezer. You might
imagine a feast at the end of it,
a communal celebration
of harvest. Instead, once the scene
was clean, counters wiped, tools
put away, we each went, silently,
to our own rooms, without dinner,
to scrub our hands and hearts, hushed
and humbled by the sins of the day.
Judge’s comments:
Dramatic poem. His/her use of triads and enjambments contribute to its power as does the juxtaposition of joyful with the brutal (peeping box – hateful stench; thrill of the kill– feathers and guts etc.). The last stanza knocks the poem out of the park.
Severena Johnston
Severena Johnston is an accountant in the Willamette Valley who loves words and the outdoors.