somewhere
within this great pile of meat
between its shattered haunches
and its gray mumbling tongue
some blood must still run
down and back along
its decrepit paretic spine
out to a lung collapsed and off
to its hooves now splayed
on the road and unable and on
to that bright brown eye
still wary still glossed still
trained on that bramble that
harvest that amber wave of grain
unwilling to concede
Image: Pascal Debrunner on Unsplash
Sweet and Bitter Greens 