Lattice criss-crosses                       
back and forth, passing                   
more than air, but him                    
too if he’d only                                 
fit between gated
holes, surrounded by  
slanted laths marking
A life.      
Lying hopelessly
in the slop, gazing
out of each diamond,  
distraught, alert, and disturbed,
Pig weeps at the green
vistas of plenty
seen before he dies.
 


