8

Evening Hunger
Alex T. Spurling

In traffic, thrown into the thralls of  hunger. 
In my purview, a livestock trailer

ocular slits for ventilation, a dozen waving snouts,
sun rays on bead-like eyes

the stench of  the farm
it permeates

grass fed, free-roam
makes no difference

Billboards, pictorial images,
of  perspiring patties and salivating mouths

unshakable adverts

Hindus venerate the cow, the Jains as well
a divine symbol

dung, urine, and milk,
ghee and curd,

an all-purpose remedy
panchagavya

the heifer is generous

Discomfort,
and the eyes of  privilege 

break contact,
for their own sake

meditation is disbanded
by impatient horns

and coarse expletives

And,
sympathetic hands,

raise a perspiring patty
to my salivating mouth,
and nothing is sacred