The pig did long to be a sheep,
to have some use besides his meat,
to seem to have a worth alive,
and not just dead.
The pig did wish he could give warmth,
with sweater and hat and by scarf,
and not be worn in other ways,
as belts and shoes.
In dreams of pain he knew what’s known,
that his death was thought in pieces:
bacon, chops, roast, butt, ham, shoulder,
– the sheep’s less known.
The pig did long to be a sheep.
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