Death by a Salesman

The action takes place at a local Michigan livestock auction

It happens every Tuesday

The curtain rises on this less than poetic pageantry

The actors pulled from their cages and stalls,

prodded forth for a final curtain call

before the lights forever fade to black

on what I wish were only fiction

A theatre of emotionless judgement

sits inspecting each angle, each frame

How could someone be on full display

and still not be seen at all?

Except as an item,

a commodity,

a check on a list

They see their flesh, but not their fear

Their height, but not their heart

Their weight, but not their will to live

The auctioneer sets the minimum bid

for a life already battered,

and the eager crowd decides

when to raise a hand to up the ante

One after the next led across the stage

in rapid succession,

some barely able to walk

as death is auctioned to the highest bidder

Like Willy Loman, dipped in ketchup,

valued more by the world in death

The grim reaper, in white apron,

waiting eagerly in the wings

There will be no burial, as the only thing

these humans will bury is their teeth

into their next bite

The cries and blood will occur off stage

The curtain falls

Fade to black

Stabbing ensues

Silverware clinks

Written June 27, 2022. Based on the experience and reflections of Brece Clark and Chase DeBack