Lunch
America’s corporate souls
have just finished eating
at the buffet trough, ingested
noon day blues. In their bellies
burgers and fries acidify
into atomic shit particles
to be gassed out into commodes
into bayous and oceans
to feed fish which get ground up
to feed other fish and then cows
hormonized to make more burgers and fries.
Yesterday a postal clerk said to me
as she reloaded and unloaded her glock,
“I’ve given these SOB’s my ovaries
but they will not have my soul,
not my soul. I am a woman
not some damn fish.”
poem by Charles Harvey
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
