Sometimes, I fear their relevance.
To think of patient pigs. Steadfast and curious.
Marching towards their all-day breakfast.
I think to write is to chew.
On straggling bits of bacon left on the side of the plate.
Pen to teeth to paper. Frazzle scented picture books.
Neon signs pig-bodied in iridescent light.
And we are so hungry. ‘Ravenous Carnivore World’
Sounds like a theme park from 20th century dystopia.
A hamburger only costs 99p somewhere.
And even when the bill surpasses one hundred.
At least it’s found gift-wrapped. Ready-to-eat.
Lit by candlelight beside other well-dressed beasts.