Us all sore cement was we.
Not warmed then with glares. Not glutting mush
under that pole the lightning's tied to.
No farrow-shit in milk to make us randy.
Us back in cool god-shit. We ate crisp.
We nosed up good rank in the tunnelled bush.
Us all fuckers then. And Big, huh? Tusked
the balls-biting dog and gutsed him wet.
Us shoved down the soft cement of rivers.
Us snored the earth hollow, filled farrow, grunted.
Never stopped growing. We sloughed, we soughed
and balked no weird till the high ridgebacks was us
with weight-buried hooves. Or bristly, with milk.
Us never knowed like slitting nor hose-biff then.
Nor the terrible sheet-cutting screams up ahead.
The burnt water kicking. This gone-already feeling
here in no place with our heads on upside down.
Les Murray's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Pigs by Les Murray )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- Autism gets in the way, Katinka Havermans
- Withdrawal, Katinka Havermans
- Hills, Jack Growden
- A Carnation and a Tango, Sandra Feldman
- last day, ademola oluwabusayo
- Some soft feelings, Lalitha Narayanan
- Bonfire, Naveed Khalid
- A Friend's Promise, diana rose tolentino
- A poem-letter to my friends..., PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
- In the summer..., Cyndi K. Encinares Gacosta