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Max Garland

The Pigs Hold Up the Dawn

 

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“ Los Cerdos Sostienen la Aurora.”

—Pablo Neruda

                                               

When I had grace and beauty

and four fine hooves, better than a devil’s,

quite frankly, the way things tapered to a point

was not unlike the flamenco’s sudden strike

of heel on barren ground. And did I not run like driving rain

after long drought to the trough, and did I not feed

shoulder to shoulder with the greater and lesser

of my kind, as if the spell of hunger made us

sister and brother. And when the day grew warm

and red, and when the scent of the world rose

and gave the brain direction and will enough

to move this bulk, my body, from barn to wallow,

from ruined field to shadow of cedars, was I not

among the pillars of diligence and mirth

that helped the sun that grazed the world,

and every morning in goodness grew.

 

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