Couch, Leigh Anne

Wild Pigs

1. Mr. Mullaney, I am a guest here
2. and cannot give you permission to kill
3. the pigs that upturn the yard every night
4. like puppies burying toys under the rug.
5. Whether it is with rifles or dogs,
6. in the daytime or night, this is not my place
7. to say yes, which I suppose is no.
8. You impressed me with your picture shot
9. by remote from a tree-mounted camera.
10. That is a big boar alright. And I sugared you
11. with questions about the meat, the spices thrown into
12. the Crock-Pot, which makes anything tender:
13. a nod to your broken mouth, a tarred
14. jumble, could be tobacco, could be worse.
15. But I cannot speak for the owner who lives in Atlanta.
16. I might have been frightened:
17. the screen door between us, hook and eye
18. at the top, hook and eye down below;
19. you in formal camo, a three-piece suit,
20. to my gown and bare feet. You looked away
21. when you said, I got permission from all
22. the neighbors out to Dixon’s farm, so don’t
23. you worry if you hear the dogs tonight
24. or my truck—you and the gun were implied.
25. Something must have passed then from me
26. to you through the screen door, hook and eye,
27. hook and eye: That sort of thing doesn’t happen
28. much around here, you said. What sort
29. of thing, Mr. Mullaney? And when it does
30. happen, what do you know about it?
31. Mr. Mullaney, what have you done?