Piglet

Piglet born so beautifully
For months developing where
In its mother yes another
Infant of despair
Born into a farm of humans
Bloody farmers who
Think infanticide is profitable
That is what they do
Flog it to a Chinese market
Wrap it up in plastic so
A suckling pig for someone’s party
Into the roaster it will go
Crackling skin and tender dead flesh
Rich plum sauce and soon will be
Lying in an old guests stomach
Perhaps for an eternity