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Poetry | September 2008

Eaten Alive

By Yvonne Pearson

Hamburgers
Carrots
Milk
Apples
Bananas
Peanut butter
Orange juice . . .
They’re always hungry.
All day I feed and I feed.
I know why the sow
devours her young.
But it would stop
the driven mother
at the trough
if only piglets
could learn
to say her name.

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