Feral Pigs

Sliding over the West Texas Hills
in a hot-air balloon, we put our faith
in the word “drift,” in its presumed gentleness.

As we trace the weightless pattern
of every aching heart, you lean
over the woven lip of the basket,

dredging up stories that may or may not
include the two of us. You say
the clouds are so quiet.

Below, a feral pig scampers out
of a cluster of brush and into another.
I watch where it ran to hide,

finding myself wishing I knew more
about feral pigs, what it’s like to roam
without direction, hungry, worried,

unwanted, speaking flatly with the snout’s
inscrutable inflection, seeing the world
through the beadiest of eyes.

Michael Brosnan lives in Exeter, New Hampshire. His first book of poetry, The Sovereignty of the Accidental (Harbor Mountain Press), was published in 2018. His second book, ADRIFT (Grayson Books), is due out in 2022. His poems have appeared in numerous journals in the U.S. and elsewhere. He’s also the author of Against the Current, a book on inner-city education, and serves as the senior editor for the website Teaching While White. More at www.michaelabrosnan.com.