A Runt

THE RUNT

Unheard through other's urgent din
And clamouring to eat,
The runt lies panting.
His shallow breath betraying
Weakness and exhaustion.
Beyond him lies his mother,
Submerged in piebald piglets
Stuck fast to hot and swollen teats.
The massive sow, exhausted, rests,
Missing the tiny tragedy unfolding:
The product of her final push,
Pushed aside by stronger siblings,
Drawing his life's last breaths.

(on a picture by Ben Hartley)