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  • Pig Woman, and: Eating The Glacier
  • Lauren Winchester

Pig Woman

A blur of soft pink shapedinto a woman's profile/the nebulous bulkof a perhaps-swine. The backgroundof red-brown is her hair/is the dirtof the pig's home. There are lips,breasts, hands folded at rest. Hoovesand the knob of a tail. I stareat the place where an eyeshould be. I burden the blankface with my humansecrets, my fleshly worries, unending.Pig Woman has it good—2-Dand unconscious—what I wouldn't give:my twisted teeth, my regrets, my bodybent on death. House me in a beastlyform, let me feel the animal joy of a molding earof corn between my jaws/still, for good,my spoiling. Goodbye to this upright skeleton,to its coarsening and its pains. I'll be an acrylic smear,encased within a white pine frame. [End Page 116]

Eating The Glacier

The guide chips off a pieceto taste. The water in meis the body of the glacier.When I breathe with my lungs,I breathe with the glacier'slungs. Breathing—though madefrom all our kind's rough materials(marrow and membrane, fluidand flesh)—I am fathomless.I gaze at the ice, thirsty for its light,and the ice turns its backon my looking. [End Page 117]



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pp. 116-117
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