prodigal

there then
stay put
near the worn-log pile
waiting for the pigs to rise from the slop-pots
of their evening stew

stay put
as you edge toward the door
lurking at the corners
for some stew to fall near you

i understand your lot
i feel the urgings burn your belly lost at sea
as you search for some gesture
that'll tell you you're in

but words move slowly
slower than you'd hope in your time of need
when the hunger eating at your mem'ry
tears holes in your guts open sack

and you're wanting
hung'ring
for a simple food or snack
for a taste of pig's garbage
and a word to come back

to come back
to come back for more snack

while you weep
yes, weep
as the pigs plan to atack'