If I enter a home where meat is served,

my heart is seized with sadness when I

realize that once living creatures

now lie silently frozen

in a coffin of ice.

Frigid carcasses, cruelly denied the

courtesy of cremation, await to fill new

burial grounds in the warmth of

human stomachs.

And when I smell the odor

of animals' blood and baking flesh,

which permeates the granules of every brick

of every wall, I feel the stain of death

upon that house, and know

it cannot be a place where

I will rest.