Tag Archives: #npm

the old man carried piglets

It’s the last day of National Poetry Month, and I find looking at a photograph can inspire. Here’s my last one for a while. Probably.

pigs

The old man carried piglets in his arms

under his armpits, actually

like two plump packages filled with

good things, they

squealed obediently, smelling

of earth and excrement, they

squealed curling and uncurling their

pink pig-tails, knowing

that the old farmer loved them

that a field of purple flowers was

waiting, patiently like a lover

the man walked many miles, or

what felt like many miles

(for what does a pig know

of distance

more than from sty to trough)

so he walked many miles, this man

setting one foot after the other, squish squash

squish squashing into the moistness

below his feet, and the pigs

snorted happily, short gruff grunts

as if they had just eaten a plate

full of scraps, short gruff grunts

confident that there would be lilacs

at the end of their journey, so sure

of his love, so sure of his love

he clutched them tightly around their middles

and they felt warm and safe

beneath the dark wool that made up his sweater

home, and they squealed

as he entered with them still

under his arms, still

not struggling, still believing

ever faithful

as he sliced off their heads

one, two

for his sweet sausage stew.

Have you ever experienced betrayal? Felt like someone was cutting your head off for their delight?

tweet me @rasjacobson

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