James Mills


Tuesdays Were Pigs - Poem by James Mills

Tuesdays were pigs,
bought and sold by mumbling men
shouting bids and whispering deals with
voices unused the rest of the week.

For a shilling us lads would
herd the squealers from one
shitty sty to another while
buyers prodded with blunt sticks and
accusatory eyes.

Sometimes they'd geld the little ones
and squirt the cuttings at us
to see us squirm at the
true lives they led
alone on farms and smallholdings.


Comments about Tuesdays Were Pigs by James Mills

  • (5/18/2005 5:57:00 AM)

    Wow, very graphic. Gross. It's a good poem when it can gross a person out when they read it, huh? Nice one. Sincerely, Mary (Report)Reply

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Read poems about / on: sometimes, alone



Poem Submitted: Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Poem Edited: Friday, May 20, 2005


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