Seven Seconds

Seven seconds in – his day’s work almost done;
the bull takes a turn for the worse, and he’s off.
He hits hard, stunned, can’t get up.

The bull turns and sees him—so recently his torturer—
now helpless.  He turns on him –
the cowboy’s blurry eyes meet the bull’s huge eyes –
Black, showing nothing but blind hatred;
A lifetime of amorphous, inbred anger finds focus –
if only for a moment.
A step later, life leaves the helpless cowboy.

With this one move, he avenges the hundreds of brave toros,
each year tortured to death
to entertain cheering Madrileños;
And the hundreds of thousands of his castrato brethren—
anonymous but for numbers stapled to their ears—
who trudge stupidly from filthy, crowded feedlots
to their doom in kill-rooms;
to satisfy our bottomless appetite
for Omaha Steaks and Happy Meals..