The sound of laughter and smiles are muffled as the sorrowful silence chokes us
The crowd, crying out injustices, is hustled from the barn. when the placenta covered calf emerges, no newborn whimper or lament is heard. The veterinarians drape him over the barred metal fence like a piece of veal at a butcher's shop.
They imply it was a form of CPR but I believe it was a desperate last attempt.
The glint in his eye dulls, colorful curtains cast aside left in the sun too long.
After the death is confirmed he is hastily thrown into a wheelbarrow. They assign me to dispose of him.
I swaddle him in a tarp a blue blanket signaling his gender but yet his death. through the tin doors we go, through the gates of Heaven.
It seems as if gray clouds gather the minute I step outside, the sun gone. The fair has turned from a lively place into a somber one in a matter of seconds. "Let it Be" softly croons from the speakers. Sorrowful faces look on
I approach the 2005 Chevrolet the men in the back of the truck stop smoking and stare at me through eyes that have seen much death before. The men glide off the back off the truck and extinguish their cigarettes. With a swift move the calf is thrown into the back of the truck. The crowd gasps But the men are not phased. The men at Heaven's door.
A blanket is messily thrown upon him so I clamber into the back and fix the calf so it looks as if he were in a deep slumber.