Dakota Skies Part 2

Earlier than usual, for the pigs have broken free from their pen, We are allowed to quit the milking because someone must get them. The excitement of getting to be with her sets us to a run But when we discover the pigs, we know that it is done. From the woodpile we gather two-by-fours with which we lay into The backs of the wild beasts because it is all we can think to do. They had formed a circle around her, pushing and pulling her pain Her hind legs were strings of blood and bone, little did remain. With curses of Christian children we hurled into the wind We chased the beasts away from her, beating them for their sin. Though her cries had quieted to whispers, she was crying still And this time we cried with her, for we knew the what will. Mother, we asked for the gun, but father was not home. Mother, we asked for the knife, but the good knives would not be won. My brother made me wait inside so I ran to the kitchen window And perched myself on the sink, pulling the curtain low. He sat with her head curled in his lap in the shade of the old tree, Crying into the warmth of her neck and then to set her free His small arms around her neck and his unanswered cries Echoing across the plains and through the cold Dakota skies. 2/25/14