Published 16 August 202416 August 2024 · Poetry / Friday Poetry / Main Posts pork lullaby Panda Wong If you feed me garbage, / I will sing a song of garbage.‘Pig Song’ by Margaret Atwood to be a pig is to know the word crush Miss Piggy’s eternally unrequited crush on emotionally unavailable Kermit neither cast ye your pearls before swine lest they trample them under their feet (Matthew 7:6) common cause of neonatal piggy death— sows rolling over in their sleep, long histories of breeding for feeding means that like cliffside mansions in the Anthropocene their organs are prone to collapse. speaking of organs, how fast do you think those little ham hock hearts were beating when those two hogs mugged infamous tax-evading hip-shaking Shakira in a public park? speaking of hearts, i cut open a pig heart in year five biology its pinkness its pipes its precious parts the closest to ours out of every living thing in the world. speaking of the world, i am thinking abt how pigs see it, dichromatic vision pouring out from their eyes solidifying objects as pure colour for example— they may see the blue of the sky as wide expanse but not any clouds or rainbows it may hold. well-known industry fact— stress before slaughter can make pig flesh D F D (Dark! Firm! Dry!) an AI pig farm in China plays ambient mix on loop to captive porcine audience, to oink-oink-optimise how their bodies feel against our teeth. in opposition to its name, tenderising is a brutal act who else has ever seen a tenderiser & thought medieval torture device? we are always oink-oink-optimising our own tender meat— i am the same age as the word biohacking,have submitted myself to the indignities of Pilates sheet masks made from boiled bones & first dates with men who swore by intermittent fasting. lifestyle guru gives himself resveratrol-induced shits in the pursuit of endurance,something spiritual abt shitting yourself towards transcendence, the slop-slop-sublime. i am watching a video of Lotus, piggy sweetie rescued from a life as dog bait, she carefully gathers flowers to decorate her home & in this way the poem can be a pig sty. at a farm animal sanctuary, i am learning abt how we have made pigs pink out of a preference for light-skinned meat & how being under the sky & the sun burns their skin to a bacon crisp. their bodies are mighty meaty odes to multitasking, a dead pig is beating ham sticky heart brined glue but an alive pig roots in the soil turning it over with its snout softening the ground is this a hymn Image: Mark Robinson Panda Wong Panda Wong is a poet who lives on unceded Wurundjeri land. She works across Her first chapbook 'angel wings dumpster fire' was published by Puncher & Wattmann in 2022. Her first EP 'salmon cannon me into the abyss', a collaboration with multiple friends, was released in July 2022. She was also shortlisted for the Judith Wright Poetry Prize 2022 and 2023 and co-edited Best of Australian Poems 2023. More by Panda Wong › Overland is a not-for-profit magazine with a proud history of supporting writers, and publishing ideas and voices often excluded from other places. If you like this piece, or support Overland’s work in general, please subscribe or donate. Related articles & Essays 6 November 20246 November 2024 · Poetry TV Times Kate Lilley I try out for Can Can after school / knowing I’m not cut out for the high kicks / Ballads chansons show tunes ok / I can belt out Judy Garland and all the songs from Oliver / “Who Will Buy”/”As Long as He Needs Me” / Wher-e-e-e-ere is love 25 October 20244 November 2024 · Poetry Phar Lap Ender Başkan we have a horse in our shed dad look dad me and gabe are feeding him grass he likes grass he eats grass and chaff dad gabe said his name is phar lap dad come on phar lap! i got some grass for yooooou!
