Poetry | February 11, 2020

To Lead a Pig Skyward

I read a pig can’t look up.
That you’ve got to gently
tilt their heads back
if they’re going to take in
the night skies. I never
led a pig skyward late
at night in Pennsylvania.
Earthbound is probably
better. We all start
getting ideas when we
look up, and the pigs,
they always seemed so
pleased where they were,
rooting in soft earth.
No need to look up for God
when the holy was there,
beneath their trotters, cool
below the autumn archer
that was rising, lightly,
on the eastern horizon.

If you are a student, faculty member, or staff member at an institution whose library subscribes to Project Muse, you can read this piece and the full archives of the Missouri Review for free. Check this list to see if your library is a Project Muse subscriber.