The Most Unpoetical of Any Thing

The wild silk moth
And the landrace
Or Ahimsa

Produce less silk
Or shorter silk
But are allowed

To die as moths.
The domestic
Gets boiled to death.

Sounds worse. Not sure.
Less various,
Now that’s for sure.

You can debate
The moral cost
Of creation,

What making means
For suffering
In the maker,

But what could seem
Less alike silk
Than the grub spit

Spinning it out
And what could be
Further from song

Or poetry
Than the creature
Spinning lyrics?