Surplus to Requirements

Slaughterhouse
Slaughterhouse

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marius stands impotent.
His delicate neck
cranes high into the sky.
Behind, his family wait
in regimented lines.
Motionless; conditioned –
Helpless.

Beneath them all, the world
carries on
as Marius
awaits
his fate.

Some will stop and gaze,
watching the spectacle
so they can say
“I was there,”
machines held aloft
as they film.

Others turn their heads
in disgust –
How did it come to this?
A finely crafted creature
reduced to decoration.
Merely a surplus on the ledger.

The beating heart
grinds
to a halt
as Marius falls
crashing to the ground.

 

Published by nicolaheaney

I'm a poet based in Bristol via Derry, St Andrews and Madrid. When I'm not writing or performing my own poetry, I'm reading or trotting about with my camera. There is sometimes drink taken.

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Wood Bee Poet

Poems, thoughts...etc.

The Pledge

Fired! Irish Women Poets and the Canon

Nicola Heaney

Writer & Poet

Freefall

'She would say to discover / the true depth of a well, / drop a stone, / start counting.' - Andrew Greig

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