This piece first appeared in the Winter Reading issue (#50) of our Gravy quarterly.
Whole Hog
In Memoriam Jake Adam York
by Kevin Young
It is heavy,
a hog, you need
to stay
up all night, nursing
the fire like a beer,
or rise early
like we did, that first time
you taught me how
to drag December
awake into flame,
lighting pecan
& hickory, passed
between cinder block
& ash. Do you dig
a pit? No,
we build one
last house
for the huge sow
who we know
rooted & ranged
the given ground.
Head on, scrubbed, split,
the pig’s skin
crackles, a communion
of it—no spit,
just shoveling coals
like a locomotive
engineer, boilerman,
rounder—
Casey Jones
mounted to his cabin
& he took his farewell
trip to the promised land—
the smoke everywhere
like a prayer, clinging
your clothes for days
we do not wish
to wash away. To share
the weight, to wear it—
to honor the creature
by devouring it
whole—we know she
would return
the favor. He looked
at his watch
& his watch
was slow. Steam rises sweet
among the maples
& bamboo. How
do you know
it is done? The hog
will tell you.
Christmas Eve Day 2012
Kevin Young is the author of seven books of poetry. His nonfiction book The Grey Album was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle in criticism and won the PEN Open Award.
