A Rural Abattoir

It was an afternoon in May, at the slaughter house,
staff was hosing down blood and excrements, but
there were two sheep left in the pen, they were given
hay to eat and would be killed first thing in the morning.
Five o´clock, staff was not paid overtime for slitting
throats of the domestic flesh we eat.
 
The two in the pen had twelve more hours of life
but they didn´t know this, quietly resting, fear
forgotten, they would sleep soundly until dawn.
Beautiful evening, red sun and mackerel clouds
truly a spring evening to remember but, for
the two in the pen, it had no sense of beauty.