pigs are magnificent, intelligent, and beautiful. anyone who tells you different has an agenda.

this poem is my gift to you
in this prelude to the new swine flu
we all feared, but who really knew?

who knew these sweet and noble beings?
live confined in their own shit and vomit
on concrete beds beneath artificial light?
thank god they can not think and feel
like we do.

well who really knew?
it did not say so on the pinkish styrofoam
or even on the news.

if i said i knew
you would hang me from the highest tree
for lying to your children.

if i said i knew
you would put your hands around my throat
and choke the words inside of me.

in this time we have to dance tonight
in this sweet twilight of an era
i will say that i forgive you
and tell you that i love you
and that is the truth.

this way has been passed down
from mother to baby
father to child
like faery tales of santa clause and jesus
we flash our funny little teeth
and pretend to be carnivores
something about killing someone else
makes us feel immortal
something about someone else’s flesh
can taste like heaven for a moment.

the world is alive
her strangled seas
her burdened air
her sweet pigs
most noble and loyal of creatures
sweet sweet pigs.

who knew the consequence of commodifying sentience?
pigs so different from us on the outside
but to a virus perhaps not so different
from the impoverished worker
who had to kill mothers and babies
over and over until he was de-humanized

who knew that even a penny of our purchase
went to the man who came home with a pandemic?
it didn’t say so on the cellophane
dripping with blood
it only said cook to a proper temperature
and everything will be all right.