Pecking Order

The tearing of flesh never bothered me

Even though they named the pigs

And nursed the calves from infancy

Steadying giant baby bottles filled with

Formula and supplements

Stroking soft down

And listening to the sweet little peeps

Of new life.

What bothered me most was the gnashing of teeth.

Something biblical and unholy

Teeth smacking teeth

Slime sloshing about

within a pompous mouth

Such grotesque harmony

Could only be human.

That filthy entitled bolus

Satiating man’s voracity

By any means necessary.

That gnashing occupied silence

That could’ve nurtured some benevolence,

The type that children require.

Instead we learned about hierarchy

Through the masticating of babes

That grew to fulfill

The morbid natural destiny

Of a weak minded being.

The fault was their own,

For being born inferior.

Now I eat with a complex

Mostly in private;

I know the value of silence.

No more tearing of flesh,

I remember loved ones

Who made the ultimate sacrifice

In growing these bones.

As I angle the sharp edge of a blade

I admire this lovely tomato

and pity its sacrifice too.