The plant’s halogen lights give it an ice-ring aura.
The trucks idle out clouds, the cattle rumble over ramps,
into chutes, they low, they ram and jostle
the shaking pens. The snorts and farts, the brute bolt.
They slump, they pitch over, their brain-holes bubble
The come-alongs grab livid flesh and drag it,
smearing the floor, to where hooks grab hooves.
The animals jerk, lift, and bob along inverted.

* poem, in its entirety, is available in the printed version of the current issue


Bio:

Steve Noyes has published numerous books, poems, stories, and reviews. His writing has appeared in many journals and newspapers, including the Vancouver Sun, the Globe and Mail, the Malahat Review, the Literary Review of Canada, and previously in Queen’s Quarterly.

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