WHERE THE HIGHWAY LEADS
One hoof, one paw, after another,
a trail of footprints
departing out of the chain.
Archaic in the modern world,
the forgotten tethered mare,
the poisoned pollywog,
the abused dog’s rage.
No happy tongues or tails,
only animals that hide
in the back room of the pet store.
Ants swarm the lab mouse’s body,
a procession of pieces taking new life.
Orderly cattle in chutes,
of the parts of them we have eaten.
These parts trapped inside of us
while we rev idling motors
moving herd like, nose to tail,
where the highway leads,
searching for a savage and simple life.
by Lara Gularte, copyright 2017
First published in the Evansville Review.