Chicken Processing Plant Allegory

by Richard Weaver

Catching them with salt
was Uncle Ross's idea.
For two days we chased them
down the alley, through
the yards, emptying
the salt from two houses
on the tail feathers of darting
pullets, escapees from death.
The last laugh was ours.
A metal coat hanger worked better.
Bent into a long hook, we'd snare
an orange scaled foot and pull
the stunned birds into the defenseless air.
They had to be held, upside-down
squawking at arm's length, their legs
pinned together, or they'd peck.
One at a time we'd carry them
back to the fetid processing plant.
Our efforts rewarded with a nickel
or sometimes a shiny dime.

Other images resurface.
The huge washer which scalded them
free of feathers, steaming like a hunted beast.
And the airborne conveyor with its hooks
that held them upside down, limp
but not lifeless, carried towards the v-shaped bar
which caught and stretched their necks
until the head popped clear and drained clean.
Their eyes caught open in final surprise.

return to POETRY!

“… They had to be held, upside-down
squawking at arm's length, their legs
pinned together, or they'd peck…”

The author has returned as the writer-in-residence at the James Joyce Pub in Baltimore. Other pubs:
Conjunctions, Louisville Review, Southern Quarterly, Birmingham Arts Journal, Coachella Review, FRIGG, Hollins Critic, Xavier Review, Atlanta Review, Dead Mule, Vanderbilt Poetry Review, & New Orleans Review. He’s the author of The Stars Undone (Duende Press, 1992), and wrote the libretto for a symphony, Of Sea and Stars (2005). He was one of the founders of the Black Warrior Review and its Poetry Editor for the first four years. Recently, his 200th prose poem was accepted since 2016.