It’s not just bull

Sitting vigil last night, I lingered on the final stanza of the hymn I wrote to Poseidon Taureos: All who feast upon the meat or profit from the sale or leverage the strength or dance between the horns or flee the trampling hoof or seek freedom ‘pon its back owe you a debt Zeus himself

Blood offering

For a brief moment, the bulls had the advantage, but by the time you read this they’ll still probably all be dead.