Orchard Pigs

Five thousand trees endowed with ruddy fruit.

But one could overwhelm our wooden pails

and flush our veins with sugar. Still we stroll

the fecund rows, pretending to discrim-

inate between a flawless gala and

a flawless gala and another and…


The tang of windfall oozes from the grass,

where still more apples waste away among

buzzed honey bees. Margins can’t be great,


keeping a place like this. Not long ago

farmers would loose their pigs into the trees

to clear out fallen fruit. The orchard to

themselves, they’d guzzle apples till their brains

fermented hard as cider, squealing round

and around the rows beneath an opal moon.


We filled our buckets, filled our stomachs more.

We felt obliged to relish every limb.

Not (as it were) to get our money’s worth,

but in a eucharist of sorts: to taste

infinity, juice dripping down our chins.

issue: Bounty
12 of 35