by Julianne Carlile
I don't think I've ever seen anything so sad
as a pig fetus,
floating in formaldehyde,
eyes tightly shut to the possibilities:
the desertion by the parents,
never pretty;
the children's names;
the siblilant siblings;
the sometime friends;
the always lovers;
the pressure of pig politics;
the pursuit of pleasure
and the avoidance of pain--
it was as if God had decided
even this was too good for him.
Copyright ©:
Julianne Carlile
Last updated February 19, 2025