Today I saw on the TV,
a story about a twister that hit a pig farm.

All those animals,
living in servitude to our stomachs,
suddenly went soaring into a vortex of wreckage,
swirling and colliding with debris,
and each other.

Pigs weren’t meant to fly.

The news commentator said,
‘no one was hurt,
although a few pigs were killed’.

My TV showed pictures
of baby pigs jumping for the camera
inside a metal pen.

Through a damaged roof
the light of day shone on their little backs,
perhaps for the first time in their lives.

Is this supposed to make me feel better?

Lunch is cute,
and cuddly,
and didn’t get hurt in the storm.

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