They hump like grunts in a long line
down out of the woods, all black
against the snow, and go behind
the house to a rally point out back
to eat from piles of corn feed
we put out there to ease their lot,
hoping that tonight at least
they won’t starve. Some get shot
as a matter of course, others freeze
before the winter’s out, some
are taken quickly by diseases
only the birds know, and some
troop on with their heads down,
not wanting to be found.

Head over the to the excellent online audio magazine LineBreak to hear the poem read by Hannah Craig by clicking here.