Rooster sacrifice, Oakland

Rooster sacrifice, Oakland. I was awakened at 4 AM by a rooster outside on the 3rd floor balcony. It felt like I was home, I slept deeper yet. Wait. Roosters in Oakland? I grew used to the sound. On the third morning, someone screamed, for chrissakes kill it, then, silence. I watched in horror, as the shadows played out on the wall, more real than the act itself. The Ethiopian woman was singing, she raised the chicken up to the rising sun, and the  twisted its neck. Then, a deft slice, to let it bleed out in an enamel pan for Sunday dinner. An unseasonable snowstorm of feathers drifts down from the balcony.