Lisa Dominguez Abraham

MOVING LIVESTOCK ON THE SOLSTICE

Hogs charge out of the trailer, cranky
after rattling through a sub-zero night.
But one didn’t make it, so the driver has to crouch-walk
deep into the trailer’s belly, ankle deep
in hog shit and frozen straw. Homer was right—
they have human eyes. Hers are blue and open.
She died looking back, he thinks, at life
constricted in her stall, the air a constant
68-degrees. Maybe she was lucky, avoiding the stun gun.
Maybe he’s lucky too, but sure doesn’t feel it.
Too dizzy with flu to haul her out whole,
he looks away from her eyes
and slits her, hauling her out in pieces.
It’s sweaty work. His ball cap’s soaked through,
the brim dripping icicles. She’s gone
where she was going anyway. Her remains
spill from a wheelbarrow, glistening with sunrise.
He’s here to look through icicle fringe
as the dents in his aluminum trailer
begin to flicker. It’s morning, he can stretch his spine,
and the season is turning toward light.

LISA DOMINGUEZ ABRAHAM’S WORK HAS APPEARED IN JOURNALS SUCH AS SOUTHERN REVIEW, NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW AND POETRY EAST. HER COLLECTION MATA HARI BLOWS A KISS WON THE 2016 SWAN SCYTHE CHAPBOOK CONTEST, AND HER BOOK COYOTE LOGIC CAME OUT FROM BLUE OAK PRESS EARLIER THIS YEAR.