SARAH JEAN GRIMM
I GUESS IT’S TOO LATE TO LIVE ON THE CAFO
I’ve got a green lawn like everybody else
My milk is fortified and certified
I’ve got eggs to boil
Meat to grind
I’ve wrung my hands around the concept of mercy
Dispatched it painlessly
It doesn’t always work the first time
You need strong hands
To believe you are a better animal
It’s okay to cry when you clean your plate
Oh give me the steed and the gun that I need
To render my excess to tallow
I guess it’s too late to feel at home
With the full range of my emotions
I’ve spent mornings attempting to tenant
Whichever glad structure
I managed to raise overnight
It’s okay
I’m told it’s okay
I’m told I’ll grow into it
By the time the scaffolding comes down
Now I cradle each tomato in the grocery aisle
Place decorative accents in the garden
Set potted plants down in the yard
I click click click my heels
I guess it’s too late to live on the farm
To lie back in a field of a thousand wheat stalks
Pointing out clouds that look like animals living
In the sky which we act like belongs to us all
Sarah Jean Grimm is the author of Soft Focus(Metatron, 2017) and a founding editor of Powder Keg Magazine. She lives in New York City, where she works as a publicist at Catapult, Soft Skull, & Counterpoint Press.