Bizzini, Chantal

Pig, a sequel
A possible continuation of Henri Cole’s poem, “Pig”

1. I
2.  
3. Barely standing,
4. I shiver in the speed.
5. The countryside recedes
6. on both sides of the gray,
7. grainy road.
8. The shadow rushes over the area:
9. it’s the clouds.
10. Pass the house,
11. the garage, the gate,
12. the water tower, at the crossing,
13. the pond. The trees
14. in rows, lean over our passing.
15. These trees, in the wind, make a single
16. forest, dense and gloomy.
17. Each bump knocks us down,
18. we lean, roll against one
19. another. Some soil themselves.
20.  
21. II
22.  
23. I used to start at 5:30 a.m.
24. At the beginning, I was vegetarian,
25. later, one gets used to it.
26.  
27. III
28.  
29. Hangars, garages become distorted
30. at the edge of the road.
31. Now, the trees are more sparse,
32. grass becomes lawn,
33. on the central median.
34. We slow down. Fanciful
35. homes face each other,
36. toward the station. The cars
37. stop: us too, caught
38. in traffic. We turn
39. at the roundabout, leaving Carrefour
40. Market to go along the bypass
41. where already, on this last day of the year, is lighting up
42. the contour of the houses in neon;
43. the familiar name, the horns
44. of Buffalo Grill make a sign,
45. from their out-of-place ranch.
46. But for us, transported like this, given up
47. to the unknown, none of these signs make sense.
48. Alone, denser air,
49. the slowing down, the stops, the lights
50. scattered and drawing closer indicate,
51. with more frequent jolts,
52. that one is perhaps going to stop
53. completely and can get off.
54.  
55. IV
56.  
57. This morning, many interlaced
58. black twigs were clad with tears,
59. thorns of clearness, in the white sun
60. coming from the clouds.
61. By instants, the edge of the forest
62. brightened, green, living, then the shadow
63. recovered it anew.
64.  
65. V
66.  
67. One leans, turns, stops.
68. The door opens.
69. In the roar of the metal,
70. a gangway is hung.
71. One can get down.
72. One hurries, runs,
73. directed toward a corridor. Shouts, to the right,
74. to the left, I see nothing, the partitions
75. of metal resonate with our running;
76. gasps, everything vibrates,
77. no possible return
78. in our stunned mob, no way out
79. either. Our open eyes do not see
80. anything. It’s cold, it’s black, and
81. suddenly dazzling white, with a crude radiance.
82. Rails, gates, crosses, chains.
83.  
84. VI
85.  
86. To the angled shape of the brasserie
87. responds the curve of the bar.
88. Figurehead, the cash register, facing the entrance glass doors,
89.  
90. separates the tables
91. aligned, to the right, from the compartmented room
92. and as if sunken, on the left, beneath the clock.
93.  
94. They were there, on the benches,
95. seated: two former colleagues
96. and a third, having lunch.
97. The meal, the sun through the window panes
98. Were reviving their memory.
99.  
100. VII
101.  
102. A jolt of electric arc…
103. the chickens, they’re the only fowl
104. that one does not anesthetize;
105. afterward, he puts them on hooks.
106.  
107. At our place, not only poultry
108. was mistreated…
109.  
110. There’s everything arriving on cross-beams.
111. As to bovines, they get put on crossbars,
112. on the cross, with chains:
113. the two tontons macoutes wait for them
114. with a machete––and pow!
115. You have to strip them.
116. There are specialists of the front…
117.  
118. The guys are paid by the job.
119. When he has finished his row, he can
120. sharpen his knives.

(translated by Marilyn Kallet)