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by Nevada Kerr

Real birds that I've seen don't look like this
It's absurd to think that they could coexist
There's something different about the way they fly
A fine distinction that might have caught your eye

I must draw a line between what's yours and mine
I'll take the tainted fish and you can keep the swine
You rattle off the numbers and catalog the names
As a million butchered quadrupeds dangle from your chains

I don't mind that you built a slum behind your failing factory
Or that your dunghill mill spins and spills these monster prodigies
It's just the noise of the carving boys in the farmhouse down the road
And the stench of rotting meat when the river overflows

You kick up dust in search of footprints, fungus, moss and mold
Sketch and map, chart and graph every living thing you sold
Despite all your statistics, your diaries and scrolls
The species that you listed died out long ago

Written by © Raven Drake
March 25, 2006.

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Created: April 2006 © Paul Kinder Last Updated: 16/4/06