Barn Pole and Pig

Barn Pole and Pig

Here Piggy Piggy Piggy

A puddle in the bed--so improper
Pissed words pass her lips
Pacing anger rutted paths in the rug
Pointing accusing digits, panting epitaphs
Recapping every past indiscretion
PJ’s are pulled, nails raking pale flesh
She preaches unclean the child
And drags the living filth up the path

Here Piggy Piggy Piggy

The barn, the pen, the pole
Muck squishes between the child’s toes
Reeking of dead leaves, left-overs, and lost innocence
Soiled skin slips in the swine-pissed swill

Here Piggy Piggy Piggy

Her hand wraps the child’s hair in a bull rider’s grip
Swing shooting the frail body into place
The child’s spine now rigid on the post
Crimson stars bloom on nude skin
As aged slivers bite deep seeking her soul

Here Piggy Piggy Piggy

She tourniquets the child with belts
Knees, hips, elbows and throat
The child’s broken gaze is returned
Only by the disinterested high moon
Sleepy snorts fill the air as she snarls and leaves
Oh God
My god
There is no god.

Here Piggy Piggy Piggy

The stars shrink from the child’s shame
Nuzzling, snapping, biting. The snout is everywhere
Snaking into the child’s veins with an old widow’s venom
Bristled hair scratches like barbed wire on fire
The pig’s weight buries the child
Relieving its’ itches on her mud dried flesh
The child’s now silent cries are caught on the morning mist
And carried through to the low light of dawn.

Here Piggy Piggy Piggy

The child accordions as each leather strap falls
Sweet relief if lost as sub dermal bee hives awake and swarm
Her body stinging with the night’s sins
Fitted with worn collar and leash the child is paraded
Up the path to face the assembled audience

Here Piggy Piggy Piggy

Hosed well water washes with stinging nettle drops
The child allows it to sooth scream roughened throat
The child is cleansed
She is dressed
She is finally alone
In the dusty cupboard
The child sleeps