raised for veal

we were raised to be veal
my cousin says. she ran
to big cities, far away.
she’s a strong heifer
dedicated to the art of survival.

we’re meant to be veal,
she says it several times,
& I will not contribute
to my own annihilation.

strong heiffers can kick your ass
ask the matadors . . . .

i agree, we’re all that way
trained to be so nice, so nice, so nice,
to give everything away
& like nothing in return.

it suits the rearers
selfless children do more.
at least child doesn’t wait parent
anymore, aren’t beaten en masse
for the craziness of the adults.

but there we stand
at 27, 42, 68 years &
we hold out our arms &
we say, here, ya want
some more? bite off another
piece, take that whole left
arm, it’s not like i need it.
bite off some buttock.
take the leg & the other one, too.

& they’re partway up my leg &
i’m screaming wait!
what are you doing?
STOP EATING ME!
i want me back!
where have i gone?

why do i keep disappearing?
why do i keep disappearing?
why do i keep disappearing?

we’re raised to be veal
i agree again & again

the world needs more
strong heiffers fleeing . . . .

copyright 2006 by Kia Gabrielle McLean