America tastes good with ketchup.

America tastes good with ketchup.
by Riley Knox

Old cow, your tits look
placeless and rough. Your
eyes fallow and vacant.
Your feet forever shackled
into small
Did he brand you with his
back hand? Just pock marks.
scar tissue held over
the carcus you seemingly
still inhabit.

Old cow. Do you still rip
wine from distended bellys?
Ignore your flies and children
with a flick of your tail.
Casual. So as not to distract you
from your cud.
Or those personal
metal mouths sucking
on your tits.

Cow. When I feed you to
yourself – do you mind?
It’s just hair, and bone,
and teeth, and asshole,
and nails, and hooves, and
arsenic, and shit, and bile,
blood and you.

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