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Writer's pictureChris Nash

Pig Preserved

Updated: Mar 12, 2020

To the market

kilos of carcass.


To the state

A factory of shit.


In life, an invisible,

moon~turned tide

of star-dark blood.


In his veins of love

a heart~tug of meat.


Death, a camera click

a flash bulb of shock.


The blood stopped,

his ghost is freed,

a porcine celebrity;

empty-eternal smile,

Dead glamour's style

that feeds ceremony.


Weathered breath,

Her eye grows

Her first bloom:

A frozen rose:


death.

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