Slaughterhouse Cop Poem by Ashley Hawkes

Alone in the Slaughterhouse when the doors are locked
And the lights are low and the blades turned off,

You might see something that'll make you stop
A cold naked carcass and a Traffic Cop,

Swinging about from hook to hook
One with a lamb-chop, one with a book,

The Cop reaches into his murder bag
With blood in his mouth he is way past mad,

He swings at the carcass in his nightmare rage
But Carcass swings back with the force of a plague,

The Cop takes a moment to bleed on the floor
And the carcass's whispering evens the score,

'I've had a great time swinging round in your head
But now I have to confess,

When you started the fight in the heat of the night
My friend I was already dead.