Philosopher Orders Crispy Pork

I love him so, this creature I do pray

was treated kindly. I will pay

as much as pig-lovers see fit

to guarantee him that. As for his fat,

I’d give up years yes years of my

own life for such

a gulpable semblable.

(My life! Such as it is! This

liberality of leaves! The world

won’t need those seventeen more

poems, after all, there being

so few subjects to be treated. Three

if by subject we mean anyone

submitted to another’s

will. Two if by subject we mean

topic. One if by death we wind up

meaning love. And none if a subject

must entail

the curlicue’s indulgence of itself.)