United States, (contemporary)
The Pig
- Now, you’d think
- if he had enough sense
- to get up there,
- he’d have enough sense
- to get back down.
- The archived photograph
- deifies him enough to give him
- the benefit of the doubt,
- standing up there in 1957
- on that filing cabinet God-like.
- Reminds me of the Stonewall statue,
- the pig astride a filing cabinet
- and Jackson on his horse, both
- of them with muscles tight
- and if they were dogs,
- their hackles would be up.
- He must’ve used the office chair
- that was found floating
- around the room
- to get to his metal refuge.
- And that must’ve been why
- he couldn’t get down.
- Those witch-possessed
- Hazard, Kentucky waters
- rose so much that even something
- fairly big like an office chair
- could just float away.
- Huge things could drift
- around, too, like cars. We’re not
- talking about today’s tiny
- Ford Fiestas. We mean behemoth
- gas-guzzlers with testosterone-infused
- names like Thunderbird,
- emasculated, bobbing
- around in the flood
- as if they were a little boy’s toy
- boats in the bathtub.
- Whatever you do,
- don’t call the pig cute.
© Lana Austin. Appalachian Heritage, Volume 44, Number 3, Summer 2016. The University of North Carolina Press.
About the Poet:
Lana K. W. Austin, United States, (contemporary), is a poet, educator and journalist. Austin has an MFA from George Mason University. Born and raised in Kentucky, she has lived in England and Italy but currently resides in Alabama where she teaches writing in the English department at the University of Alabama in Huntsville.
Austin has two full-length poetry collections, Blood Harmony (2018) and Like light, like Music (2020) as well as a chapbook, In Search of the Wild Dulcimer (2016). Also a journalist, Austin has written for numerous newspapers and magazines. [DES-01/22]