Who ate the quick-witted pig who had loos-

ened each hinge of her crate with her tongue

until the door fell off? She was bacon,

of course, but not before she had loos-

ened the other sows’ hinges too, loos-

ened her piglets from the harrowing crate,

the farrowing crate, our own dinner plates.

Away from the metal rod and months on

her side unable to turn, she turned.

With her mother-love, her sister muses,

she found vision in the heart of misery,

a sure-footed, moral vision. Imagine

her flesh, not unlike human flesh, loos-

ened from a life longing to be free.