Animal Rights Poetry and Prose from

Sonnet for an Unnamed Bobby Calf By Summer Jayne

Vulnerable. Fragile. His body is all
Quivering limbs and moonish, soulful eyes.
He hasn't yet reached one hundred hours old;
Already facing imminent demise.

High-pitched cries! Calling for help, but he's stuck.
His bleating the most hopeless I've heard.
Harsh shouting. Shoving. He's forced off the truck.
We can't save him, just give love and soft words:

"It's okay..." But it's not.He's just a baby
And indifferent masses turn away.
It seems there's no limit to brutality
When society is prepared to pay.

So easy to spare him. Want to know how?
Don't take lactations from a mother cow.

bobby calf
Bobby Calf photo taken at a New Zealand slaughterhouse

Summer Jayne, 2024 

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