John Zheng

Thanksgiving

After Eudora Welty’s photograph Hog-Killing Time

The hog oinking and smacking slop in the trough a moment ago squeals when its feet are tied. It falls silent with one stab in its neck and blood gushes out. After being scalded and hair-scraped by the man standing by a large basin of steaming water, it’s hung upside down from a tree branch, its snout almost touching the ground and its forelegs spreading like waiting for the butcher to rip open its belly and cut it into pieces of meat for the holiday meal.

leftover of greens
with ham hocks
on the kitchen table
hunger moon on the panes
nose-twitching 

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About the Author

John Zheng’s haibun and tanbun have appeared in various journals, including Arkansas Review, cho, Crab Orchard Review, Poetry East, Southern Quarterly, Drifting Sands, and Ribbons. His latest book is A Way of Looking (Silverfish Review Press 2021), which won the 2019 Gerald Cable Book Award. He lives in the Mississippi Delta.