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Natasha Dennerstein

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Cattle are stunned, slaughtered,
bled and gutted
then the carcass
comes to me.
Trade school called it
exsanguination and evisceration.
My Girl loves them words.
She’s my tenderloin:
the choicest cut,
free from fat.
I could cleave a carcass
into its primal cuts
with my eyes closed
from all my time
at the freezing works.
Now I own my own butcher shop –
well the bank does –
with no fuckin’ boss
to bow down to.
I’m happy.
At least I don’t
have to look
into their chocolate eyes,
the cattle,
before I
shoot them.



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