Flying Things Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

Flying things

I once saw a flying pig
there was a hard wind blowing from the east.
over the bay of Cascais
The wind slackened and dropped the pig
that was alive and swimming ashore
alas, where men with knives waited.
Every café was serving pork in all its form
a pig is versatile for human consumption.
Can`t say the same for my little donkey
on the terrace, it costs me a fortune in carrots
but it has sweet-smelling droppings which
I dry and sell to rose lovers.