thursday poem

It occurred to me that I've put poems up here, but not of Cora May, who is probably my favorite character. Anyway I'm starting on a new sequence now, but I didn't want this time to pass without a little Cora May.

Cora May Hears of the Slaughter

Abigail said millions of pigs
got slaughtered in late September.

Something about keeping prices
low, but I think the government

men have lost their goddamn minds,
because there’s madness in spilling

those fat, pink bodies to the mud.
Young pigs too, and not yet finished

suckling, Abigail said. My soul,
what are they going to think of next?

Burning pits for ripened apples?
Flour barrels set out in the wind?