Poems and Thoughts    by Frank Maurer

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The Flensing Knives. (Danish, flense, 'to strip the skin off.') A sudden explosion And the harpoon Flies out, over the water. A body contorting. Blood blends with the sea. The body is tied to the boat. A long voyage to the California coast. The body slides upward, Multiton in size, tail first, On a long shoot Towards the knives. In through the huge door And they are upon her. The flensers with spiked boots Walk up her body, Flensing knives in hand, Cutting deep through the blubber. Black outside, With a white margin and base. Piece after huge piece Is peeled off with a winch, Crackling sounds as it folds backward. The body is now flesh alone. The dissection continues Until only pieces lie here and there. Dismembering is completed. The flensers with their Long handled knives Have finished their job. I was a student biologist. Now it was only to know Where the meat was destined. I learned in my young life's case, All the flesh was destined For Kalcan Dog Food. Today, sad and illegal. Basically, I had witnessed Many murders of fellow creatures. Frank Maurer 22 May 2026 1700 Hours.