You ever see a hen crying?
As its babies are taken away …
You ever see that one tear hit the dry soil,
your heart boils with pain,
as you put a pad a butter in the pan,
and with the other hand,
crack the egg?
The skillet crackles,
the pepper smells nice,
the coffee is ready …
And if you made that sunny side up?
Would you give a little to mother hen?
Would this dry her tears?
Or would she eat her baby in silence …
AND I STILL SCREAM:
“Did you see that poor hen cry?”
(right before its little baby dies …)
Did you ever see a chicken with shovel and adz,
fashioning stone and brick for the FEAT,
as processing pipes are laid by roosters,
and their little children become McNuggs …
No more hugs …
Just a pale bleak building where the little chickens scream …
(no more to ween)
Is that mean?
Why did GOD have to make chickens, and their eggs, so tasty?
(this is the greatest of poignant sadness …)