'Scree at Cowthorpe' by Tod Pughes
After the frost-heaving,
Land is still.
Water waits,
Earth bides its time,
Sky chewing its fingernails.
Until the rock bleeds again its green sludge.
The scree is assembled by small goblins.
Maudlin pixies run to and fro.
The sun weeps like a bereaved Viking,
And all around
Chronic animals vomit over the bodies of dead herdsmen.
2 comments:
Young crow was a shaman by gum!
And a pain in the deity's bum.
In the garden of Eden
A phallus was bleedin'
While crow had it off with his mum.
Where are these "chronic" animals and can they be tamed?
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