To wild animals, appetite and entitlement are the same.
They take what they want, leave what they are denied,
and every boundary and limit is set by a threat of violence,
and language is aggression. How domesticated are we really
in this precinct, this paddock, this pasture, this enclosure,
this cloister, this college, this boardroom, this parliament,
this venue, where we trot about pretending to be human?
They talk about "thin ice," but we walk on solid ground,
terra firma, rock, congealed and stiffened over fire, not water,
and when we go under we do not drown like some dumb beast,
we burn, loudly, in an applause of flames, taking a bow,
addressing our last words to gods, trusting last wishes to men,
surrendering the dignity that the doomed animal finds in silence.
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