Play with little piggies in a pigsty,

Oinking in the corner.

Our shameful piglet cries and squealing;

Days are getting warmer;

We are only fauna.


In the summer piggies frolic with each other

In the shaded glades and think of dinner.

Radiating heat and sweat as

breath meets breath and

breath meets –

Lost among the long grass spinning,

Tickling piggies till they’re squealing,

Then let go and think a while as

I dare you to read my mind

Before you fall upon me.


Take my throat and

I’ll take yours;

I’ll test the contours of your jaws.

You let me in,

I enter in and


We’re conceiving God together

In his brilliant halo’d splendour:

Virgin Mary and the Child in the Pigsty:

Mildly plays the Holy Kiddy with the piggies,

Muck and mire,

Holy sire in the making;

Piggies for the taking.

Pluck them from the feeding trough;

Pluck them from the hay;

Pluck them from their sleeping mothers;

Take them out to play their daring games

Of joy and mud and sticks.


Trunk of steel and boughs of iron

Wrapping branches round Orion;

When he came to Earth and made a clearing,

Made himself the King of Piggies.

So the piglets tend his shrine;

I’ll take yours and you take mine;

We’ll step forward,

legs together

legs together

In the air upon the dew-drenched moonlit heather;

Days are getting better.


Piggies snuffling in the forest;

Swampy Autumn leaves getting in

Between the sheets.

Here’s an early plate of pigs in blankets:

Take a piece and lick the grease,

Smack your lips then clean your teeth.

Feel beneath the satisfaction of a sample

From the ample stores of roaming piggies

Soon to fill our hungry bellies.


Piggies in their snow-rooved houses;

Pens for pent up boars and sowses.

But dem wee piggies get to mischief

With their shrewd and cheeky thinking;

Shrinking through the holes and spaces,

Cutting through unholy places playing races

All the way until they find the farmhouse stable.

Taking pleasure both together,

Nuzzling in the hay and straw

To keep their warmth and dream

Of what it was their lives were for.


Days are getting shorter;

Take dem piggies up to slaughter;

Come on in and take a swim

For you disturb my waters.

Duck our sun-dried muddy scalps below the surface,

Forage blindly through the slime and bubbled sponges

To the bare and seedy bottom

Where the duckweed’s blocked the light;

I’ll know myself, as I know you tonight.


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