Civet

Hi. I'm a civet cat. I'm writing to ask
that you commute my sentence from
life with daily punishment to death.
Death would be so much easier.
Every day they torment me then
enter my cage with some sharp metal
instrument they use to scrape at
my back side. Why anyone would
do this is beyond me. They make it
so I can't even mark territory, not
that they allow me any territory to
mark anyway. Near as I can tell,
tormenting me brings them some
sort of maniacal pleasure. The only
ones worse off than me, from what
I hear, are veal calves;
in both cases, they do their very best
to keep it all a secret, their wicked
ways, the abject cruelty that underlies
their endeavors, their executioner
spirits that never die. They keep
pretending their actually civilized.
Hah! I hear about
lives of freedom and I really can't
remember what that was like,
to be free. Does it mean
you get to choose when and how
you die? The most I take comfort
in is that they never forget to feed me
or bring me water. But, then I
realize it's only because I'd be
no use to them dead. Does that mean
it's just that I should live in this hell?
I didn't even do anything wrong,
other than being a civet cat, which,
I suppose, in their minds, is fault
enough. All I'm asking is that
you talk to your representatives.
While you're at it, bring up
our brethren veal calfs too.

(2007)