De La Carne

Of the Meat

Digested, very soon it must be
the flesh of their bodies.
It is seen that they are
heading to the slaughterhouse
They will not return
to graze the rural lands.
Decided by whoever is the owner.

For the final destination is decided,
awaiting the butcher
Who will not delay
slaughtering the skin.
To please
the Argentine carnivore.
Without wasting
the stench of their hell.
Sausages, that
palates are demanding.
Like someone who has,
demands protection.

With mine I go
transported among iron
of bold rolling.
Far from the tangle
Documentation that I try to digitize
cards will jump. So that the skilled one endures

Without fear of losing.
Without expecting reward
for giving.
An extra wink,
that awakens the awake.
I am surpassing.
The empty talk of those who want more.
Far from the tangle.
Eighteen are the ones from the cereal truck
That are left behind,
while I go my way.

Sausages
Palates are demanding.
Like someone who has,
demands protection.