Sunday, October 25, 2015

Baxter Black "The Squeeze Chute"

The sun shone dull on its metal bars. The snow lay drifted against her frame. Behind the barn near the rusting cars She’s ended up all crippled and lame.
An ol’ squeeze chute I’d opened and closed On a hundred thousand heads and horns Dragged to the bone yard to decompose Forgotten rose in a bed of thorns.

I lay a hand on the frozen steel, The head bar polished as smooth as glass. The mem’ries flowed and the past revealed Itself like magic. I knew at last.
Why, through the years of sweat and toil. Despite the urge to romanticize, I hated it just like a boil That throbbed like the Starship Enterprise!
Its dinosaurial devious brain Laying in wait for liver and loin Slipped a ratchet and jiggled a chain Then rendered me a blow to the groin!
It came to collect its pound of flesh. A finger here, there, a piece of shin. The aching ribs, recalling a’fresh A gleeful, scything crack to the chin!
Hot forged in hell by the River Styx. It’s what they’d make if devils could weld! They say machinery and cows don’t mix And that truth has never been dispelled.


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