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24 Long Pig Girls like Peggy Lee, bland, pink-faced blondes, pale-lashed and pug-nosed, those girls made cheerleader, student council, prom queen. Sounds jealous a little—May be. But now they’ve farrowed forth four or five tow-headed young to boar-broad farm husbands, and learned to love guns and God. Now they lean into their bones so cleanly, not a lick of meat keeps up the cute. All that flesh was like a lush suit that got all their wants met. Sounds cannibal—May be. Maybe love’s suckling piglet wicked out what sweet fat contained that squealing girl. Sounds not fair—May be. Maybe their love feeds like any human love: It renders, scalds, boils down to everything but the oink. More than my love— Less than oink, just O, and ink. ...

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