Pig Roast Sonnet They all wore black and stank of last week’s Miller Lite they stank of smoke and memories they stank of bitterness that picked up speed as it tumbled downhill and across the town before it skidded to a halt in front of the fire where a pig’s head stared vacantly into the middle-distance unfocused clouds for eyes they all wore camouflage as they blended into suburban life in a small New Jersey town where cathedral bells were tolling to remind them of the ones they left behind in rough pine boxes buried shallow or nothing left at all except the smell of meat and a memory of a face staring emptily through the stink of whiskey and pain
About the Author: Poet and songwriter Paul Ilechko lives with his partner in Lambertville, NJ. He is the author of several chapbooks. His work has appeared in a variety of journals, including The Night Heron Barks, Feral Journal, Iron Horse Literary Review, Gargoyle Magazine, and Book of Matches. His first album, “Meeting Points”, was released in 2021.
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Image Credit: The natural history of quadrupeds, and cetaceous animals. Bungay, [England] Printed and published by Brightly and Co,1811. Courtesy of the Biodiversity Heritage Library (public domain)
As It Ought To Be 