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Birds in rows are housed
In single cages whose insides
Are too narrow to move about.
Cages are designed ingeniously
To save even fraction of a calorie.
Feed and water are kept in pots
Neck high; need not lower head much
To quench thirst or to cloy hunger,
Energy is conserved for egg production
Luxury of mating is dispensed with;
But the Leghorn lays an egg daily.
The peck on the back of neck,
The pain,
Flap of wings on slides,
The Thrill,
Weight of mate on back,
The warmth,
Brooding over milk white eggs,
The bliss,
Or, least to glance them once
- All denied.
An air of detachment, looks as gloomy
As that of bread earning spinster.
She is my elder sister;
My fingers burn on picking eggs.
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