This time it will be different.
This time we will not go
like our bovine brothers
one by one down the ramp,
headfirst through the chute
into the slaughterhouse,
into the waiting slug of night.
This time we will rouse the herd,
we will rise from our dung-
drenched funeral boards,
we will sway from side to side
in our heavy wave of defiance,
we will dance our rite to life,
we will rock and roll this cattle car
right off its clacking tracks.