The abattoir

Her head swung, sank down to her knees.
She fell on her side like a felled oak and all the grounds of the earth thundered.
The dry grass under her weight died another dainty death.
The red stopped seeping eventually
But by that time the inch thick layer of liquid
had reached us all.
Hind legs and feet looked on, safe
While front hooves grew sticky and red
I could not abandon her,
Watched paralysed until they nudged me away.
I heard the axe chop cut kill her over and over.
Later they skinned her.
Tore hide from flesh and hung it
in the back of the abattoir.
I could smell my turn somewhere near the future.
I looked down and saw mother’s life coating my left foot
And a cry left me.

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