We suckle on sharp nipples.
Ingest the milk and pepper through the nose.
“Pig!”
Screeches the meaty piece of flesh hanging above us.
A porcelain circle runs into our nose, another howl.
“Pig!”
And then the singing:
I speak severely to my boy,
I beat him when he sneezes
For he can thoroughly enjoy
The pepper when he needs it.
We do not know what much of this means.
Soft skin hits ours, and we’re in the arms of something.
Flushed and young.
But all the same,
Meat.
