D.M. Black: A Dream About a Pig

When we face the reality of what we have done to the planet, how will we stop weeping?

Some folk can bear the thought of heating a lobster to death. I have heard them laughing as they build the fires.

And last night I dreamt someone brought in a pig. It was already dead before they started to cook it.

But as they cooked it, small droplets of fat oozed through the skin, thousands and thousands of tiny droplets,

And I could not bear it and lay down and started to weep, to weep unceasingly.

O tears and tears. Not like the tears under Bluebeard's castle, a standing flood, but an unending stream.


Published 2008. A poem for those "Maybe I should try going vegetarian" moments.