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Poetry

The Beast

  1. Corralled inside a pen, all lured by change and hope.
  2. Shuffled through gate and chute, each coaxed by rod and rope.
  3. Scanned for tattoo and tag, then pushed inside the booth.
  4. And once the curtains part, each learns the grisly truth.
  5. Before their very eyes, they see the ugly beast,
  6. Two heads upon its back, four eyes desiring feast.
  7. One head is bloody red, the other deathly blue
  8. Both growl, and drool, and snarl, and lick, and sniff, and chew.
  9. They step onto the box, and stand so deathly still.
  10. The beast extends its arms, its mouths await their swill.
  11. Its hands latch onto teats, the left and, too, the right.
  12. And milked them dry of X, their stomach knotted tight.
  13. The beast took in its hands the cup of dreams once sown.
  14. Drank all without a care, and climbed onto its throne.

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By Kim Siever

I live in Lethbridge with my spouse and 5 of our 6 children. I’m a writer, focusing on political news, social issues, and the occasional poem. My politics are radically left. I recently finished writing a book debunking several capitalism myths. My newest book writing project is on the labour history of Lethbridge.

I’m also dichotomally Mormon. And I’m a functional vegetarian: I have a blog post about that somewhere around here. My pronouns are he/him, and I’m queer.

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