All The Pig, My Soul

At sunset a sow bolts from the muck.
From the ditch she comes unstuck.
Thwooocck. Squeeeeaaal.
She leaps, she comes unlocked.
She lands in a potato field.

The pig, my heart, stands still.
Gigantic, she blinks.
Black underneath.
Pink ears a-flop, light up.
The sun shines on her behind.

We meet, eye to eye.
Sorry, I say to the pig, my soul.

All the pig does is this:
Stand. Blink. Flick mud from its chin.

Back in the world.
It takes me in.

Veronica Gaylie is a poet, teacher, writer, and land activist from Vancouver.