Poets Resist
Edited by Jemshed Khan
May 22, 2019
Brian Daldorph
Pig
That’s what the General looks like.
“You think I look like a pig?” he says in good English.
“No, no, of course not,” I say.
“Then that makes you, my friend, an exception. People call me The Pig.
I know it. They call me that, but not to my face!”
He offers me a drink. I ask for tea.
“On a hot afternoon like this. You English!”
I ask him about the prisoners.
“The terrorists? They are being treated much better
than they treat their victims,” he says.
“They are savages. Savages!”
I ask if I can see them, talk to one of them, perhaps, but the General says,
“That is not possible, my friend. They are dangerous men. I cannot
guarantee your safety.”
I tell him I’m willing to risk it and he stares at me with pig’s eyes:
“But I am not willing.”
I thank him anyway and he stands, extends his hand.
I shake it and he smiles.
“Have you ever shaken hands with a pig before?”
I know when to say nothing.
Poets Resist is published by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.