"Pigs" by Les Murray
Us all on sore cement was we. Not warmed then with glares. Not glutting mush under that pole the lightning's tied to. No farrow-shit in milk to make us randy. Us back in cool god-shit. We ate crisp. We nosed up good rank in the tunnelled bush. Us all fuckers then. And Big, huh? Tusked the balls-biting dog and gutsed him wet. Us shoved down the soft cement of rivers. Us snored the earth hollow,