poem

Liz Berry Sow

Dainty footwear turns a young lady into an altogether more beautiful creature...
– Eliza Sell, Etiquette for Ladies

Trottering down the oss road in me new hooves
I’m farmyardy sweet, fresh from the filth
of straw an swill, the trembly-leg sniff
of the slaughter wagon. A guzzler, gilt.
Trollopy an canting. Root yer tongue beneath
me frock an gulp the brute stench of the sty.

I’ve stopped denying meself: nibbling
grateful as a pet on baby-leaves, afeared
of the glutton of belly an rump. I’ve sunk
an when lads howd out opples on soft city palms
I guttle an spit, for I need a mon
wi a body like a trough of tumbly slop
to bury me snout in.

All them saft years of hiding at ‘ome
then prancing like a pony for some sod to bridle
an shove down the pit, shying away
from ‘is dirty fists. All them nights,
me eyes rolling white in the dark when the sow I am
waz squailin’ an biting to gerrout.

Now no mon dare scupper me,
nor fancy-arse bints, for I’ve kicked the fence
an I’m riling on me back in the muck,
out of me mind wi gruntin pleasure,
trotters pointing to the heavens like chimdey pots,
stickin V to the cockerel
prissy an crowing on ‘is high church spire.

Black Country glossary: oss road – street; gilt – sow; canting – cheeky or saucy; howd – hold; guttle – chew; mon – man; saft – foolish; squailin – squealing or crying; gerrout – get out; bints – derogatory slang for girls; riling – writhing