Lilly, the rancher's son called her,
ran from the truck in terror.
In the warehouse, she was first in line.
Ushered down the cool narrow concrete path,
lined with chain link, into the narrow steel chamber.
A small metal gate lowered behind her
and shifted forward, forcing her head to rest,
metal death pillow, hydraulic vice grips
bracing her skull. The fear in her eyes...
if ever she did fear?
The hollow-eyed man walks forward,
the creeping of his black rubber boots,
the swish of his white plastic coveralls,
gloves, hairnet, medical mask, goggles,
putrescent blood his perfume.
He ascends the shiny steel footstool to his post.
He looks her in the eyes...
He smiles so subtly.
The captive bolt pistol penetrates the skull,
bursting the cerebrum and cerebellum
resulting in "less" pain
but keeping the pulse strong for exsanguination.
Under the hypnotic hue of white fluorescents,
Lilly's legs are pierced with bright metal hooks,
she is hoisted in the cool white sterile stall.
A sharp steel blade pierces her jugular vein,
carotid artery,
trachea.
Lilly twists and writhes,
voiceless gasps of air...
Her heart,
a machine,
her
worst
en-
em-
y.
