Man's ineffable urge to kill,
To dominate,

Stood, like a mushroom cloud
On the edge of the desert.

It was
A tree
Rising

Interminably

In the midst of silence

Which the birds know
Too well.

We separated the skin from the chaff
And there was meat

A bloody bowl.

Open wide.

Her hinds were wretched yet aware.

We used her allies
So that they might confess.

Technology progressed
Until it led us here,
With too many tusks.

We got them to rip at her teats
Because the milk had gone

Sour.

We got them to pull out the horns
Because they had never seen so much meat
Their mouths watered and
Saliva dripped into the
Open wounds.

Now she writes
To control the controller.